The Nature of a Black
by ravengabrielle
Summary: Harry Potter was raised by his godfather, Sirius Black, and created a friendship with Draco Malfoy long before the Hogwarts days. Now comes time for school to start and life to truly begin, but Draco Malfoy is unsure where he belongs. However his newly found friends Ron and Hermione leave him little choice as they drag him on adventures. Maybe turn to M rating as story goes.
1. Chapter 1

Christmas Break – First Year

"Aha! Youngest Quidditch player in a century. A seeker, too!" Sirius beamed as him and his godson marched through the door of his family home, Grimmauld Place. It'd been a lonely school term with Harry gone. Sirius was only amused with Remus for so long before even those antics became predictable. He wished for his godson.

Harry had been with Sirius and Remus since his parents' deaths, ten years before. They'd been betrayed by their childhood friend, Peter, who was lost that very night with James and Lily. It made Sirius especially protective of the young boy he raised as his own, never trusting more than a handful with his wellbeing, Remus being an obvious exception.

Now, Harry attended Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry as his parents and Sirius attended in their younger days. He glowed with pride at the memory of his own childhood within the castle walls.

"Your dad would be so proud," Sirius said softly, lost in the memory of James as he stared down at his face.

They shared the same wicked smile, always a taste for mischief, in a way that was exactly in his father's nature. Dark hair, unkempt in a way that chose comfort over style, even his walk was that of James Potter.

"Do you think so?" The young man looked up with a curious look. "I figured he'd wish me to be a Keeper."

Sirius snorted. "What would make you go think something as preposterous as that?"

"Well, um, I mean."

The boy struggled over his words. It wasn't often that his godson struggled to talk to Sirius about anything, much less Quidditch. He practically grew up on a broom!

"Out with it, son. What is it you're thinking?"

Sirius touched Harry's robes. They were ruffled from a long train ride home, no doubt shoved up against the glass from all the boys in the car. The innocence of the first year, the fun, was all too dear to the man who grew forlorn as the days marched on without his two best friends, James and Lily, to witness their son turn into a remarkable young man.

He didn't dwell on that now. Harry was home. That was more important than anything.

"All the Keepers are so cool," Harry admitted. "They save the games, get the girls. Being a Keeper is so much cooler."

Sirius scoffed. "As if a Keeper has ever been cooler than a Seeker. Harry, my boy, I've never met a Keeper that wasn't a complete git. That's who isn't tough enough to be a Chaser, or smart enough to be a Beater, or fast enough to be a Seeker. No, those gits take hits to their heads!"

He was going to have to write the school and complain about that conduct. A Keeper more popular than a Seeker? Who in their right minds thought that up?

Harry eyed Sirius closely before relenting. He moved his trunk up the staircase, letting it thunk against every single step on the way up in a way that Kreacher was sure to bellyache about the rest of the night.

That was when he noticed something amiss.

He leaned over the railing. "Where is Remus and that friend of yours? They did make it off the platform, didn't they?"

Harry shot him a wry look. "Distracted by a street performer. They're out on the corner. Doubt either will look away for another ten minutes."

Sirius smiled. His godson continued to amaze him with a sensible humor that always raised him from his lonely depths. It was more than good to have him home.

"I'll go fetch them before the wolf starts to encourage Remus to run off to the circus."

Sure enough, just as Harry said, Remus stood near a young boy with a worn-down trunk on the corner where a young girl with flowing locks danced, a boa wrapped around her midsection. The green snake hissed as an underlying bass as the woman sang.

Her pale eyes ignited with interest as Sirius stepped closer, giving him a careful look with a side smile.

He touched his friend's shoulder. "Moony?"

Remus stared as the woman's body began to gyrate the hundreds of silver sequins all over her. It elicited an excited exclamation from the young man at Remus' side.

"Bloody hell," the boy murmured.

"Alright, alright, you two. Let's go before you spend your entire vault on this woman's eccentricities which, frankly, I could do better," Sirius said, collecting both by the arm and tugging them away.

"Oh come on!" The young man groaned.

Remus was more quietly bothered. He walked along but turned his head more than once to watch the dancer summon others to be beckoned into her siren cast of weaker men. Sirius was disappointed in his friend. A lifetime of knowing the dangers of enticement left little impact when a girl as pretty as her danced. He was surprised the bleeding heart didn't invite her inside to live forever, free of charge.

That was the kind of man his best friend was. A darker man than when they were children, but gentle as ever.

Grimmauld Place welcomed the three with a burst of warmth, thanks to all the warming charms Kreacher placed. The ancient house was drafty. Bits of snow found their way in through window sills and the attic during the winter months, the House Elf worked tirelessly to retain the integrity of the ancient House of Black.

When he'd been tasked with the job of caregiver for his godson after the death of three personal friends, Sirius could have cared less whether the place burned down or rotted. Time ate away at the sentiment as he saw more and more of a dark-haired boy bouncing down the hallways rather than a heavily cloaked man with a permanent scowl on his face. The home was Harry's. A childhood locked within the walls, same as Sirius, but in a much more pleasant light. Kreacher still cursed the scuffs down the hallway from his first trunk, something he insisted on carrying himself.

Harry and his friend came down a time later, unpacked and ready for food. The other boy's stomach grumbled loudly.

"Sirius, this is my friend Ron."

His bright red hair glowed under candlelight. It was apparent which family he hailed from. No other in England bared that hue so brilliantly.

"Welcome, Ron. So glad you could join us."

Ron offered up a weak smile. "It was either this or Hogwarts. And, I was afraid that'd mean more school work."

Sirius laughed, slapping the boy on the shoulder happily. "There is always room at our table for another survivor of Hogwarts homework and the blasted library. How I hated that place."

Both the boys groaned in agreement. Their sounds the very same that Sirius and James made to the Potters when they asked how it was the first time. Some things never changed with time.

"I see you already know the place," Sirius stated.

Kreacher rang for supper. The four slowly made their way to the back where the kitchens and table was, fit for fifteen people once the elite of the magical community, now just a simple broken family of those who barely survived the first war. Sirius kept Harry sheltered from the life that once was his, a dark mark on his conscious.

The Dark Lord was gone, vanquished thanks to Lily's sacrifice. There was no need to add to the weight of the boy's suffering, the boy's sacrifice even if it was for the world. Lily and James meant more to everyone than that. They were beloved family. A part that Harry completed for them, for them all.

For now, Harry remained ignorant of the fact that he'd faced the worst wizard of all time and lived to see the next day. The only one.

Harry and Ron rushed to their set places, eyes wide with hunger as puddings and pies and roasts littered the table.

"Our other friend drags us there all the time," Harry explained as he loaded up a roll with butter. "She practically lives there. You should see the books she reads."

"For fun!" Ron added, clearly disturbed by the fact.

"Yeah, for fun. She reads all about Hogwarts and magic." Pumpkin juice was poured into Harry's goblet. He then offered some to his guest. "I've never heard of most of the things she knows."

Ron munched happily on a slice of steaming mince pie. He looked thrilled to have so much food, a fact that he took full advantage of. The porcelain of his plate was barely seen under his mountain of food.

Sirius was happy to see the boys so content. He noticed his friend even perk up at their great enthusiasm. So close to a full moon left Remus in a depressing mood, worse when Harry was around.

Grief was his struggle, more so than Sirius'. Remus suffered James and Lily's loss every month when he shed his werewolf form into human and gained his memory once more.

"She knows a bunch for a Muggle," Ron commented offhand.

The comment caught Sirius' notice. "Muggle? At Hogwarts?"

"Ron meant Muggleborn. Hermione has Muggle parents," Harry said. "But she's really smart. She beats everyone in class. Answers every question before a Professor can even ask."

"A gifted friend to have," Remus piped in.

A night with Remus Lupin's input was a good one. Sirius was glad for a blessed Christmas; already given all the happiness he could have.

"She's alright," Ron grumbled. "Bit of a Know-It-All."

Harry shrugged. "I like her. She thinks of things we don't, and it's important to be friends with people like that, isn't it, Sirius?"

A bloom opened up in Sirius Black's heart to see a child so confident and well mannered. Although it didn't seem like it, Harry did listen as Sirius rattled on about things, he'd wished he'd known as a young wizard. It took many hard lessons to understand just what the way was to be a better man.

"That's correct."

Ron scrunched his nose. "Why's that? Don't pixies of a feather flock together? It's hard to be friends with someone not like us."

"Harry? Can you tell him why we need variety?"

Sirius raised his wine goblet to his lips. The bitter red tasted sweeter as his son glowed with pride as he educated his friend on what he'd been taught.

"Because otherwise we are too narrow to experience. If I had only been raised in magical England, I wouldn't know pizza or cars or movies. And all those things are awesome. We need friends different than us so we can be better people, understand things, have more fun."

The night was the first in a long while that Grimmauld Place was spent in great cheer, lit up well into the night as the boys told of their first year and all the fun they'd had. Ron spoke of his siblings – there were many – in a of relief that he didn't have to share his holiday with them. Apparently, he had a nasty set of older brother twins that always hid Ron's Christmas presents in the garden beneath their mother's beloved vegetables.

It took ages for either boy to start to appear worn down. He was nodding off in his chair when their scrambling feet echoed up the staircase like a herd of cattle.

"Merlin, they go on," Sirius mumbled as he stood up from his crouched position. His knee popped below him. "Ah, just like that. I'm reminded of how much time has stood against me these years."

Remus stared into the crackling fire, motionless, lost within thought.

Sirius observed the distance in his friend's eyes. All too well, he knew the hurt there. Harry was Sirius' Godsend, but he was Remus' cursed reminder. They were all that remained of their childhood friends, so few left of the original Order of the Phoenix, a part of themselves never made whole. They were forced to carry on in a world that enabled their friends to be forced into hiding and eventually hunted down and murdered whilst witches and wizards turned a blind eye to the horrid acts the Dark Lord did.

Darkness. It was a cloud over their minds. It never left. A world descended into accepted chaos for the sake of a cause so bitter and impure.

His friends were brave to the very end. Harry's parents faced down the greatest evil the world ever knew without doubt it was the right thing to do. That trait carried over into their son who grew more stubborn and decided as the days burned on. He was a force to be reckoned with.

A reckoning, Remus and Sirius, hoped would never come.


	2. Chapter 2

Childhood Friends

Harry slept soundly amongst his room at home. The Gryffindor tower was nice, but it never felt like his since it was shared with the other boys of his year. At Grimmauld Place, his space was his. It was adorned in magical moving wallpaper of city skylines in the dark of night with lights blinking through black. As night progressed, the city changed. Some nights it was New York City in America, or Dubai, sometimes Paris with an outlined Eiffel Tower center set on the wall.

He kept his wand at the side table next to his circle lens glasses. Without them he saw the blurry lights of cities unknown to him, ones he knew by heart. Hong Kong was tonight's enchanted city. The lights fought against a rain storm as it raged against sky scrapers.

Sirius always wondered why Harry preferred the non-magical cities to fall asleep to. It was difficult to express in words, but as he fell asleep to their faint glow in darkness, all was calm. The Muggle world laid in rest, as it the magical. Like, actual proof with his own eyes that everything was okay.

Sometime during the night Harry awakened to the sight of a bright blue ball outside his bedroom window. It moved round itself, pulsating bright light. He squinted, reaching for his glasses.

A place like Grimmauld moaned in aged defeat in certain areas. Harry was a boy of eleven, very aware of which path was quietest. He danced over the wooden boards without a sound and unlatched the window glass.

He gripped his wand and started to peer into the night when a brilliant white face appeared out of nowhere. Harry stumbled back with a startled yelp, changing the face from a satisfied grin to a denounced sneer.

"Way to blow cover, dipwit."

Harry staggered to his feet as the visitor levitated through the window and onto the floor of Grimmauld Place. The wards didn't alarm. Sirius hadn't adjusted the wards since summer, no doubt in view of the very circumstance that awoke him.

He snatched his wand. "Most use the door."

"Where is the fun in that, Potter?" Draco Malfoy beamed.

The young Malfoy was slender, the same height as Harry though he held his chin higher to appear taller, with platinum hair gelled into compliance. He wore the traditional garb of his family nature, expensive and the newest style.

They'd departed their ways at King's Cross in London, Harry with Remus and Ron whilst Draco followed his father through a split crowd as they passed.

It was clear that Malfoy held emotion back as he stood in his friends' room. His face was plastered with a false expression, torn between revealing and masquerading.

Draco paced the room, clenching and unclenching his fists. "You've got room for one more, don't you?" The young boy looked panicked. "I know Weasley's here, but, um."

"Yeah, Kreacher put Ron into Regulus' old room so Sirius' is free."

There was a moment of bashfulness between the two. It was no mystery that Draco preferred the wild room of the family outcast, Sirius, plastered with Gryffindor colors and enchanted trinkets that hexed those who didn't know what they were doing.

Sirius Black was cousins with Draco's mother, Narcissa. Although they chose not to associate, Draco was still drawn to the rebellion. Sirius had been the first one in generations to be sorted in Gryffindor, by choice. The young Malfoy was drawn to the choice, never aware that there was any pride in being in a House that wasn't Slytherin.

Draco swallowed back his grin. "Good. I hate that old room of Regulus."

"Me too. It's still got all those posters up. Creepy skeleton masks." Harry avoided the dark corner where the room sat. It chilled his bones to watch the darkness fall through it. "What do you think those are?"

Draco shrugged. "Have you asked Sirius?"

There was a visible cringe.

"He doesn't like to talk about it."

"What about Lupin? He knows everything."

"Not about this," Harry said. "I've tried. Neither say anything."

Draco pushed his lips together in a way Harry recognized as his pondering face. There were many things that Draco was, but he was a remarkably sharp thought. The Malfoy façade hid the fact that Draco excelled in schooling, right behind Hermione in every subject. A fact that burned him inside and out.

His friend waved his wand. A leather bag hovered midair from the night into the room. One more mutter and the window was closed.

The fight must have been bad.

"Weird for them, isn't it? Since when can Sirius restrain himself? He's just as bad as that Gobermouch," Draco said with a sigh.

He looked tired. Harry wondered if he'd walked the entire way.

"Her name is Hermione and she's not…a whatever you called her."

Draco rolled his eyes, always bothered by Harry's new friends. There was a faint suspicion that he was secretly jealous of Harry having better friends than the ones Draco was stuck with in Slytherin, all old friends of his parents. "Gobermouch."

The expression was new to him, but Harry knew it wasn't a compliment.

"She isn't one," he said firmly.

Draco scoffed. "You don't even know what it means, Potter. How can you know she isn't one?"

"I can just tell. By the way you scrunch your nose when you say it." He pointed to the slender nose that was indeed wrinkled like a bad stench lurked near. "You do it every time you talk about her."

"Do not!"

It appeared again. His friends entire face looked disgusted, defeated. Harry was far above teasing his friends, but with Draco's head being harder than dragon scales (aptly named, apparently), it was necessary to put the prat in his place.

He looked literally aflame with frustration. Time to cool down.

Harry's wand appeared in his hand as he said, "Aguamenti."

A clear stream of water spurted out of the top of wood straight onto his friends unsuspecting face. It drenched through his robes, soaked his undershirt and wet his skin. Draco stood in horror as rivers of water poured down from his now-heavy robes.

He shot his friend a glare reminiscent of his father, Lucius.

"What was that for?" He demanded.

Harry hadn't time to blink before Draco brandished his own wand, a beautiful Hawthorn. It was longer than his forearm as he held it out ahead.

"Flipendo," Draco sneered.

Floor underneath his rear creaked as he landed, sure to be boasting a bruise.

"No fair!" Harry exclaimed. "I didn't hurt you."

Satisfied with a smirk, the Hawthorn wand was secured within black robes. "Don't be such a prat. That didn't hurt you. Honestly, Potter, you're not a china doll. That scar is proof."

Right. His scar. The mark that caught every passing wizard's attention like a sign. They stopped him in shops, at school, out in London. Not a single place was safe.

The friends finished their night with a handshake, sending Draco dripping down the hallway, squelching his shoes. The very sound brought out their childish laughs until Kreacher appeared, visibly displeased. He ushered the Malfoy boy to his made-up room with a snap.

The elf had grown bold in his actions as Harry grew. He was remarkably commanding when he wanted, unlike most House Elves he heard of. The ones at Hogwarts worked in the kitchens and were very obedient. The Malfoy estate had elves, Harry knew, yet he didn't feel it right to ask. Draco often avoided questions about home. It was why his appearance at Grimmauld was not so surprising. Not much stopped Draco from running away when he wanted.

If he had to stay at the Manor, the bet was very likely that he'd turn up at Grimmauld.

The next morning when Draco joined breakfast Remus and Sirius sat with the paper in hand, greeted him like the other two and sent him onto his meal without question.

There was a sad glimmer in Sirius' eyes that held Harry's interest. He saw it rarely except when he spoke of Harry's parents and when Draco appeared within the house without explanation. Sirius embraced Draco Malfoy as apart of the house, leaving him a room made for him and a respect not to push. He never asked why he turned up. It was silent acceptance that whatever Draco ran from Sirius would shelter him.

As much as Malfoy appeared, he felt more like a brother than guest. He even joined them at events that were asked of Sirius, Harry an obvious extension of Sirius and now Draco. They'd even gone to Draco's aunt's house together, a woman his mother did not associate with because of her Muggleborn husband.

"Why does it matter who she married?" Harry was a curious young child at the time. Andromea welcomed Draco with warm smiles and open arms same as Harry. What made her so awful to know?

Sirius pulled him aside into a private corridor. "Harry, son, when you are older you will see that some people can be resistant to Muggles. They just don't understand and they're scared. Old ways."

"But why?"

It was the first time that Sirius looked him in his eyes and asked him to wait until he was older. "I shall tell you more then, but now, let's learn on our own who to like and not like, yeah?"

Breakfast was quiet. Ron kept to himself as he shoveled stacks of flapjacks into his mouth. His blue eyes kept close to the figure on the other side as Draco carefully selected each breakfast item with his wand rather than a fork. It was dainty and unusual. Ron nudged his friend in his ribs.

"What's Malfoy doing here?" He whispered.

Harry paused. "I told you that we had Quidditch lessons together when we were young."

"Yeah, but what's he doing in your house? He's a prat. You remember what he said about Hermione."

It was no secret that Malfoy and Hermione did not get along. Malfoy's entire fault. It was after an exam which Hermione held the highest mark (no surprise there) and Malfoy had been ambushed by his father's disappointing letters, so he took it out on Hermione. He publicly relayed her intelligence was to make up for the fact that she didn't have any friends. He called her a "nightmare."

That was on Halloween. Hermione had been looking forward to the feast where all the Houses intermingled in the Great Hall, ready to show others what Harry and Ron saw in her. Draco's announcement ruined that moment.

Harry dragged Draco, quite literally, down to apologize when they saw the troll, freshly escaped from the dungeon, enter the girl's lavatory where Hermione was barricaded. It was gross. Bumped and scaled with sickly pale gray flesh. Draco tried to run away, but Harry latched onto his robes and dragged him through since it was his fault that Hermione was there in the first place.

A battered lavatory and a fallen troll left the trio faced under the scrutiny of their House Heads. Draco was awarded House points from Professor Snape while Hermione and to a less extent, Harry were penalized and given detention with Filch by Professor McGonagall.

Hermione and Draco still did not get on, but they were civil for the most part. A hex a month was fair, for what Harry asked of Hermione.

"You heard him apologize," Harry whispered back.

"Did dodgy, innit? He just says sorry and he's all forgiven?"

Ron looked doubtful.

Harry shrugged him off in favor of his breakfast. "He said he was sorry, and I believe him. Let's just eat."

Later that day was news that Hermione would visit the day after Christmas. Her parents felt comfortable to let her roam London with her friends as long as they were supervised. Sirius even addressed her parents directly, explicit that any child in his charge would be safe.

The boys spent their time inside Grimmauld Place. They decided to play Hide and Seek. They dove deep into the guts of the ancient house and all its secrets in search for a perfect hiding place. Ron was it. The spell cursed him with darkness until the countdown was lifted.

Draco and Harry split up; Harry ventured toward the bedrooms as Draco climbed higher toward the attic. He remembered an enchanted wardrobe and beelined for its protection, being a talented hider, not being caught once.

A practice he used at Malfoy Manor regularly.

The last place that Ron would look was his own room, Harry guessed. He opened the door imprinted with the initials R.A.B. and slipped inside.

Contents of Ron's trunk were scattered about the room. Knitted sweaters of every color strewn over dressers, bits of yarn on the floor. The mirror held a few moving pictures, one of his brother Bill and the other of a dragon his brother Charlie sent to him. Romanian Longhorn. He talked about it all the time.

Harry found a spot big enough…with a bit of magic.

A shower of sparks drenched him in spray, lowering him closer and closer to the floor. Separation between the boards grew into deep sea trenches, dark and full of years of unspeakable terror, as Harry shrank to the size of a four year old. Just small enough for the drawer.

Ron's voice rang through the place. "Merlin or not, here I come!"

His lazy pace clomped up the stairs. Time ticked close.

Harry folded himself into a drawer and closed it. The distinct smell of antique wood and oil was all too familiar to him. Kreacher used the tree oil on all the wood furniture in the house. It was slight in the stench of decay, dead wood further pushed into displayed death, and dust and cleaning oil that reminded Harry of home whenever he smelled it.

Hogwarts was plenty old but never decayed. Magic of the school kept everything preserved in that eternal essence of the school.

There was a deliberate stomping through the hall. Ron's shuffle.

"Where, oh, where shall I look?" He pondered aloud. "No one would go in Remus' room. Or would they?"

His quick steps thundered down the other end of the hall toward Remus' bedroom where he was surely to turn up nothing and probably get a good scowl out of the mix, too.

Harry sighed and settled in. It'd take Ron forever to find him, if he didn't give up before then.

The darkness was boring. There was nothing to do. Even the size of a toddler left him little room to maneuver. He wished he brought something other than his wand.

He tried to shift off his side. The drawer upon stopped his motion, but then there was a little pop. What was that? Harry looked up. The piece of wood heaved up, bits of paper hanged down from the space.

The dresser was empty. He'd been through it many times. No clothes, no toys, and definitely no papers.

Drawings on the paper attracted Harry's interest. He recognized a small bit of ink in the corner, a doodle of some kind, of a skull with a serpent tongue. Suddenly, a downfall of paper and heavy metal dropped from the upper drawer onto Harry's stomach. He smacked his head when he tried to see what it was.

"Ow."

Now his head hurt as well as his cramped body. Where the bloody hell was Ron?

The chestnut drawer was getting smaller by the minute and he was more interested in his discovery. The drawer clattered to the floor as Harry climbed out, clutching his stomach.

Ron thudded down the hallway in a manner of seconds.

"Aha!" He exclaimed as he kicked open the door, but his face fell entered. "You're supposed to be hiding, Harry. Now we've got to start all over."

Harry ignored him. He placed the contents of his arms atop the black bedspread.

"Forget the game. Come see what I've got."

Ron stepped closer, wand still drawn with a look of confusion. "A diary? That's what you want to look at?"

"I know it's a diary, but look here, at this symbol. Where have we seen that before?"

There was a stillness in the air as they observed the blank ink drawn atop parchment in personal attachment. Harry knew it wrong to snoop on someone's thoughts, but there was a niggle at the back of his mind that told him to learn more. That doodle was something.

"Give in already, Weasley? That's a record." Malfoy appeared out of thin air behind their backs. "Hey. What you looking at? School work? Come on, Weasley. Thought you weren't a square."

"Shut up, Malfoy. Come on and slither back. Only so many places for you to hide in this place, isn't there. Reckon I can find you before dinner," Ron snapped.

It was no surprise that soon the two were in a full-blown argument.

"You're so full of it, Weasley. Doubt you'd find me with a map," Malfoy said.

Ron turned bright red. "Could to. I'd just follow your slimey trail though the house."

"Those are slugs you idiot, not snakes!"

Harry shuffled through the papers, most were comments on friends and Hogwarts, dreams the writer had. None seemed to illuminate who it was that wrote them and what the locket was.

Malfoy remained cool while Ron inched closer and closer to his face, red as a cherry. They snarled and spat like a couple of alley cats. Their friend wasn't bothered. It happened constantly.

"Now look who the nightmare is," Ron said full of spite. "Wonder how you've got any friends at all with that ugly mop."

The insult sparked Malfoy to continue, knowing where he'd hit a nerve. "She tickle your fancy, Weasley? Did I insult your princess Granger?"

"No. You insulted my friend."

Malfoy set his jaw in a line. "I think it's more than that. You've got the crush on the bucktooth."

"Her name is Hermione," Ron retorted quickly. "And you're mad if you think I like her. I just don't think it's right for a foul git like you to tease her so."

"You hear that, Potter? Weasley's got a crush on your girlfriend."

Harry rolled his eyes. "For the last time, she's not my girlfriend."

"One of you must like her," Malfoy said.

"Do you even listen to yourself? Thick in the head, you are. Neither of us like her!" Ron threw his arms up in the air. "She's just our friend. Our best friend, you know. Don't suspect you know about those since all you've got all those uptight prats in Slytherin house."

Malfoy turned, astonished. "So, you made me apologize to the bucktooth for no reason?"

He was clearly alarmed. Malfoy pride had been wounded by that apology. The drama never faded as he wallowed in dramatic flair over his lapse of judgement all for a friend. Harry asked if he'd like to take it back, but Malfoy quickly said no.

" _Hermione_ needed that apology," Harry with a sigh. How long would their spat go on for? He was already tired of the fighting. "If you don't like her, we just won't be able to hang out at Hogwarts."

"Wow. Put me on the high wire, Potter. Hope I don't fall."

Harry then mumbled, "As long as you shut up about it, I don't care which way it goes."

He turned back to the doodle with the skull. It had a snake. Perhaps it was a Slytherin house thing. All of the Blacks were Slytherins except Sirius. It was possible that it was truly just a diary with nothing interesting. Of course, the locket was a strange piece. It weighed heavier, way heavier, than it looked. As he stared, he felt a tugging within his mind. A gentle pull of thought. A scream?

He pulled Malfoy's robes over to the bed and pointed to the symbol. "Is this something to do with Slytherin?"

Malfoy inspected it closely, frowned and handed it back. "Never seen it before."

"You don't know what that is?" Ron's blue eyes were twice their normal size.

Malfoy and Harry shared a shrug. "No."

"That's the dark mark, mates. You know." Ron leaned in closer. "You-Know-Who," he said quietly.

You-Know-Who. The unspoken entity that whispered through crowds, but Harry never caught a smidge of detail. Whoever he was, he was bad.

"What's a dark mark?" Malfoy eyed Weasley suspiciously.

"You ought to know. Your own fathers got one."

The look on Malfoy's face said that was a shock. It didn't seem like something his father would have. Lucius was too prim and proper. All ceremony, no commitment. People like his father weren't branded with any kind of decorative marking. They went against the pureblood belief that bodies should be marked and tainted. It ruined magic.

"No," Malfoy said. "He'd never have one. It's wrong."

Ron bristled. "I'm not lying! I heard my own father say it."

"Oh, and your dad is an expert on mine. They don't even like each other. Can't take his word for it."

"See for yourself." Ron crossed his arms. "It's on his forearm. Should be easy enough for his son to notice. You're his son, aren't you?"

Malfoy tensed. "Fine. I'm only doing this to prove you wrong, Weasley."

Christmas passed. Relations between Ron and Draco eased a bit, though it was still filled with spiteful comments. The time for term break was ending, and the bet was still on. Malfoy had to find out if his father had a dark mark as Ron claimed.

In the private of the rooms late at night, Malfoy fretted to his friends' ear.

"My father wouldn't have a mark like that," he said. "A dark mark. I don't know what it means but I know its bad. He can't be that bad."

Harry felt a loss. Lucius Malfoy was not a good man.

"He might have a good reason."

"Him and my mother have told me that tattoos are wrong. Defiling our bodies is wrong. Purebloods are meant to remain intact that way."

In the end, it was so clear that Draco didn't hate his parents as much as he claimed. Or at least, believe them as awful as he proclaimed.

Harry tried to be supportive. "You hate that, Malfoy. You hate that stuff. Pureblood, it's wrong, follow all the rules. Let's face it, you wouldn't be friends with me or as obsessed with Sirius if that was true. Now what's it matter?"

Malfoy deflated, sitting on the bed with a head hanged low. "I can't help it. They're my family. My parents. I can't have bad ones. Bad people. What's that make me then? No better."

"Sirius had bad parents," Harry stated.

"No, he didn't. My mom liked them."

Harry raised a brow. "Sirius told me what they were like. They weren't nice at all. Not like Sirius. They didn't like him to be in Gryffindor or even let him have friends who weren't Slytherins. Sound familiar?"

"Make your point, Potter."

"The point, Malfoy, is that Sirius turned out to be a really good person even with bad parents," he said. "You aren't like your parents. I know it. You know it. Sirius definitely knows it."

His friend perked with a smile. "Really?"

Harry nodded. "You have a place with me and Sirius here. That makes you good enough, doesn't it? Just try to be nicer to my friends and it'll all work out."

"No promises."


	3. Chapter 3

Frustration – Second Year

"Merlin! Bleeding Merlin."

Draco slammed his bookbag against his bed, kicking the bedpost with all his might.

His friend straightened with interest. "Love the tantrum. Do continue."

"Does Granger have to be such a know-it-all?" Draco exclaimed with frustration. "It's all 'look how smart I am' and 'try not to notice how pretty I am with my sparkling eyes' or 'oh, you can't have me'. She's so insufferable."

Blaise stifled a chuckle. "I hear someone has a crush."

"Could we focus on me for a moment, Zabini? Not everything is about you," Draco snapped.

The Slytherin dorm room was empty except the two boys. Thank goodness. The only one who could bear to hear such thoughts about a Muggleborn was Blaise, his own secrets known to the young Malfoy.

Second year started off right. Typical stuff, except Draco was more blinded by Hermione Granger than usual.

Blaise put his books away, knowing that Malfoy's fit wasn't going to end soon, and it wasn't safe to have completed works within hexing distance.

"I was talking about you, git." Blaise smirked a brilliant white smile that rivaled his dark olive skin tone. He was considered one of the more handsome Slytherins although Draco was a bit more popular with the ladies. Not that he was interested. He was hung up on the bookworm more than anyone. "You are the one who likes the Muggleborn."

"What? Are you crazy? I can't like her. She's Hermione!" Draco pulled at his limp locks. The crushing realization was ripping his mind apart. "It's like someone took an incredible girl and put them into an arrogant, stubborn, intriguing witch. Who would do something like that?"

Then came the frantic pacing, mumbling to himself then growing louder for Blaise to hear. "Then she says, 'Malfoy, stop staring. It's creeping me out.' Like what the bloody hell does _that_ mean?"

It was clear but Draco didn't see the revelation in his statements. He was so obtuse. Blaise wasn't interested in whatever small pleasure there was in torturing his friend; his eardrums couldn't take any more screeching.

"Look, Malfoy. When you're done being a drama queen, which by the way I do way better so stop trying so hard, I'll be in the library when you're ready to confront your feelings."

Draco turned ten shades redder. "I. Do. Not. Like. Granger."

His friends waved him off. "Yeah, yeah. See you later."

It took him about two days longer than Blaise estimated, but Malfoy eventually sulked to his side in the library one day, tail tucked between his legs, drooping face. He was disheveled. Clearly the news was not welcome.

Blaise looked back down at his Potions book. "So, Granger, yeah?"

Malfoy nodded slowly. It was a pained expression.

"Besides the fact that you're not bothered by the fact she's a Muggleborn and you're a pureblood Slytherin heir, what is the concern?"

"She's Potter's best friend. I can't do anything about it. He'd kill me. I've pushed that envelope too far already, and the make things worse, she's with him all the time." His face fell into his hands. "What do I do?"

Blaise casted him a wary glance. "Careful. That is blasphemy within the House. Anyone else finds out that you're best mates with Harry Potter and your life is going to be hell."

"What's the difference?" Malfoy groaned. "Can't stay with my father more than a few hours before I sneak over to Harry's, and he's always going on about how I'm not like I should be. Might as well add in Potter and Granger."

There was a snort. "Don't forget Weasley."

Bitterness. The Weasley and him still hadn't learned to play exactly nice. He kept a wary on him whenever he was around, which insulted Malfoy that Ron would distrust him so. Malfoy never pulled his wand out. They played fair Wizard Chess games. Not once did he swap out the characters when he wasn't looking like he did with Potter.

Malfoy melted into the back of the chair. "Bloody hell. Don't even talk about him. The git. No matter what, he's already dogging for me."

"Weasleys," Blaise muttered.

"Got that right."

Suddenly a voice rose above the shelves. Three voices, actually. Malfoy straightened his appearance, adjusted his hair and robes creating a blank slate for the ones who tread near. His friends snickered at his side. It was promptly met with a scowl.

Malfoy's voice got very quiet. "Not a word. To anyone."

"You don't have to worry about me spilling the secret. It is written all over you." Blaise smirked. "If she was any other girl, I'd say they'd sniff you out in a minute. Since it's Granger, your secret is safe. All that girl thinks about is books. Should've been a Ravenclaw."

"How much easier that would have made my life," Malfoy moaned.

"Keep telling yourself that, you might actually believe it."

The three friends spoke louder, arguing.

"You could have gotten expelled!" That was Granger. She was such a mother hen. Malfoy leaned in and paused. "Don't you two think?"

That was when he decided to input himself in the conversation. Malfoy stepped out from behind the shelf with a quirked brow.

He sunk his hands deep in his pockets to hide their excited tremble. "You overestimate their capacity, Granger."

Potter and Weasley jumped. "Where did you come from?" They both shot.

"It is a school library," Malfoy sneered.

"Honestly, boys." Granger sighed, dropping her books to the table.

That sounded like she sided with him. A sudden race came to his chest. Merlin, it was a thrill.

Weasley deflated and turned back to his friend. "It's all that elf's fault."

"What elf?" Malfoy was surprised to hear of any elf. Potter kept minimal contact with his, since he was a grouchy old thing. "Kreacher bewitch the trunk to save the floors again?"

Potter shook his head. "No. Some elf called Dobby."

"Dobby?"

Three eyes flicked to him.

Granger inspected his face closely. Sparkles in her cinnamon eyes feasted on his flesh like a newly found book, one Malfoy observed a million times first year. Then there was a sudden change. She stiffened, narrowing her eyes to slits.

Moment passed.

"Yeah, Dobby. He came and told me there was plot to make history repeat itself or something." Potter scratched the back of his head. "A bit odd. He liked to, um, hurt himself, often."

There was a flicker of sadness in Granger. "Poor thing. He is forced to serve a family with no respect or education. What kind of monster would make a creature punish itself?"

A moment of silence crept up between the friends, atmosphere of the library paused as they remained still. Each of them knew that Grimmauld Place and Malfoy Manor had House Elves as servants.

"I know who," he said quietly.

"Really, who?" Weasley asked.

Malfoy cleared his throat suddenly aware that Granger leaned closer with interest. "Dobby is my father's elf. He lives at Malfoy Manor."

He expected the Gryffindors to be disgusted by a clear reminder of his elite status, vindication that his father was truly as evil as they discovered the year before when his dark mark was suddenly revealed. It was a horrible moment to watch Potter and Weasley withdraw from him like he was infected with a disease. All because of his father!

Malfoy had been so distraught that Sirius pulled him aside. It was stressful. A few rebel tears fell down Draco's cheeks as he relayed the information about his father with despair. There was a moment where Sirius was surprised. It made the tears worse.

"My dad is a bad wizard. A bad man," Malfoy whimpered.

Sirius took a moment to respond.

The man sighed and collected the boy in a tight embrace. "Draco, son. There is no greater moment than when a boy finds out his father is only a mortal man, not a god. We all make our mistakes. All men of bad and good. Your father has made some bad choices as a wizard, but he did what he thought was right."

"What do I do?"

There were so many thoughts, questions spinning round his head.

Sirius pulled back, taken aback. "Do?"

"He's my father. That's got to mean something," Malfoy said. "I am a Malfoy just like him."

"For as long as I've known you, and that has been a long while remember, and when I look at you, I see a Black if I ever knew one." Sirius smiled, wiping away salty tears from a blotched face. "My boy, you may look a Malfoy, but your heart is the very lifeblood of the Black name."

Malfoy sniffled. "Really?"

The change was instant, and Sirius sent him on his way.

The next term left Malfoy a bit more grounded in himself and proud to be an adopted Black same as Harry Potter, the Boy-Who-Lived.

Granger broke the silence with a thought. "Well that's good, isn't it? You can just ask Dobby what he meant in his warning."

"Warning?" He looked to Potter.

"Dobby told me not to come. That innocent people are going to die, and he thinks I might as well." Potter shrugged. "I think it's nonsense, but Hermione insisted on researching."

She folded her arms cross her chest. "He distinctly said 'make history repeat itself', Harry. That means it's happened before."

"We do know what history means," Weasley snapped. "We aren't idiots."

Draco Malfoy caught the train of Granger's thought and followed it to the destination. "Yeah, so one of these books has to have that very history. That's a great idea, Granger. Find the event where someone died, and we'll know what the plot is."

A look of surprise crossed over Hermione's face; her eyes bulged as her arms dropped away. "Thank you."

"Where did you plan on starting?" He leaned closer, checking her stack.

She fumbled with their covers. "I've got _Hogwarts: A History_ of course. Carta Del Rey's _20_ _th_ _Century Magical Events Within England._ I skimmed a bit through the European version, too, but it's filled with so much. I can't possibly look through these all and work on my class work."

"I'll do it then," he said.

"What?" She withheld a gasp, though it was clear that was her initial reaction.

Potter and Weasley shrank twice their size. Perhaps they knew she'd volunteer them for the task if they made their presence suddenly known.

Hermione Granger was not above putting them to work and bound to breathe down their necks until they completed it to her liking. Malfoy wasn't above putting him in harms way for a bit of breathing down his own neck. He actually liked the idea.

"It's important, isn't it?" He tried his best not to be too thrilled. "I can help you get through them. I read faster than either of them."

Granger ran her fingers down the spine of her leather-bound books. Thoughtful consideration. He beamed. Despite their constant disagreements, they were the best qualified for intense research, both knowing the library better than Potter and Weasley knew their own brooms.

"But you've got Quidditch," she mumbled. "I've got – well – Ronald can help do it since you two are always busy."

Ron groaned, yet she ignored it.

"Don't be daft, Granger. Weasley will take twice as long and we don't have that time to spare, do we?" Malfoy glanced at Potter. "Dobby said someone could die. I'll help. We can meet in the library after supper and share what we've found."

Potter instantly took the bait. "I'll be lucky to get my school work done this term. You know how much Potions work that Snape's given? I am already drowning. Plus the detention Ron and I got from McGonagall."

"Yeah," Weasley agreed. "I've got to help with those little devil Mandrakes for my detention."

"Lucky. I've got to help Lockhart."

There was a slight sigh from Granger's lips. The dreamy look in her eye registered within Malfoy with intense irritation.

He grabbed the European book and stormed off before more could be said in his presence about the mindless wizard. Gilderoy Lockhart was a famous wizard, mostly for his appealing charm rather than his accomplishments. Surely Hermione Granger recognized a fake when she saw one.

When he got back to his dorm, he tossed the volume on his bed. If she was going to fawn over the wizard like a silly school girl, he wasn't sure he wanted to help at all.

Still, he spent every waking moment that wasn't spent practicing on the Pitch and studying with his nose pressed into the book like his favorite bookworm.

They spent their time in the library when the weather turned cold. She was incredibly antsy as time ticked by. Potter was hearing a menacing voice and Filch's cat was found with a bloody message on the wall. There was a distinct edge to her studying. More and more, she was willing to converse with Malfoy.

"Did you find much about the Chamber of Secrets?" She asked, biting her lip.

Malfoy sighed. "You heard McGonagall. She told you what it was."

"Barely. A secret chamber, that is as vague as possible." She slammed her books closed. "It's all because of a bloody bigoted Slytherin."

He peeked up from his book with a sharp eye. It must have slipped her mind because once the statement soaked through her skin, she blanched incredibly pale.

"Sorry, Malfoy," she said. "I didn't mean that."

Hermione was being genuine. A way she was when with Potter or Weasley or the little Weasley girl. Her kind smile melted Malfoy's solid reserve into a nerve-wracking mess. What should he say next? What impressed her?

He sat higher in his seat. "I'll forgive you, Granger, if you do something for me."

Instantly she was suspicious. The narrow slit eyes appeared.

"Not a chance, Malfoy. I know your games."

"You don't even know what I was going to ask," he said, deflated. "Could've changed your life, you know."

She bit back her smile. "I doubt that."

Her doubt in him was infuriating. What else could he do? He was nice, polite. Harry already made him apologize for first year. Even helping her on a research project wasn't aiding her opinion of him.

Malfoy slammed the book against the table. She yelped in surprise, the outburst a shock in the quiet of a dead library.

Across the table, she glared. "Must you throw such a fit?"

"I am not throwing a fit!" He exclaimed. "You're just being impossible."

"Impossible?"

Now it was his turn to glare. "You're too smart to be so clueless."

"I am not clueless!" She raised to her feet, palms pressed flat against the table.

His knuckles turned white against his book. "Yes you are!. You don't know a thing."

The Gryffindor reared. "I do, too!"

"Then why is it that you are so beautiful, and you don't even realize just what you make people feel," he said suddenly.

She gasped. Clearly, he'd said something. What was it? He'd blacked out a moment before, but the way she looked at him now, it should alarm him. He jolted in his seat, pure red.

Merlin. He'd done it. Spilled his guts all over the library floor.

He had to get out. Not a moment later, he was sprinting down the hall without a thing in his hands and no idea what to do. There was only a single thought. Avoid Hermione Granger at all costs.

He managed to until the night another Muggleborn was petrified. The minute he heard there was another in the Hospital Wing, Malfoy couldn't sleep or eat.

His eye searched for Granger through the crowds, but she was nowhere to be seen.

The Hospital Wing was closed off to all other non-injured students. It took a long while for the Mediwitch to get distracted and he spilled inside, set to find his friend if it was the last thing he'd do.

White curtains wrapped around a single bed. The petrified student. A silence descended to his mind instead taken up the entire body shakes. The more he tried to calm himself, the more he panicked.

Hermione Granger, petrified. It was all his fault. He should have been there. He'd given his word that he'd help find what was hurting people in the school and failed miserably. All his friends.

Draco felt the sadness open up in his chest once more. No, he couldn't look.

The white curtain in front of him, his fingers skimmed the gossamer fabric. Stiff as a board. It wasn't fit for her. She should be lined in flowers so if she did awake, beauty would fill her eyes. Or books. Books were better. A stack of new books round the room, over her head, titles of every subject and style and language. So what if she didn't know French? She could learn. With a new book!

"Malfoy?" Her voice entered his head.

He stopped suddenly. Was that his imagination?

Someone walked up behind him, touching his shoulder. They were real.

Malfoy turned on heel and saw her face, scrunched with concern. "Malfoy, what are you doing here?"

He lurched forward, wrapping his arms around her in a tight embrace, swallowing back the tears that had been bubbling all morning. She was alive and well.

Hermione Granger allowed him to hug her without resistance.

"What's got into you?" She breathed.

"I thought it was you."

She stiffened in his arms. "What was me?"

Truly, it was her. She wasn't hurt. A wave crashed against him.

What would happen to him if he was left without his friends? If Hermione truly laid on that bed, he'd be shattered into a thousand pieces. He didn't give a flying chocolate frog if his Slytherin friends saw. Hang it all. Who cared how his parents would react? Draco cared for his friends. They were all that made his life a bit bearable.

"The one who got petrified," he mumbled into her hair. "No one said it wasn't and you didn't come down to breakfast."

His arms loosened and she stepped away with a slight smirk. "Worried for me, were you?"

Teasing. In a moment like that. Inappropriate.

"Relax, you prat. I came to see Harry before class," she pointed to the bed were Harry laid, eyes bright at the sight before. Malfoy instantly went rigid, mortified.

He saw it. He sat right there without a word. Malfoy knew there would be a conversation about it, later.

Still, he relaxed as he joined his mate. "Enjoying your vacation?"

"Why don't I disintegrate your bones and give you a shot of this stuff." He hoisted a bottle off his bedside table. "See how lovely this _vacation_ is."

"The bones growing well," Hermione said.

The whole room smelled of fresh linens. Madame Pomphrey had a heaping mound of levitated sheets and wrappings before Malfoy slipped inside. Potter laid in blue striped pajamas, arm nested in a white sling.

"Yeah but it's taking its time to do so," Harry grumbled.

It was eerie in the Hospital Wing silence. The air thick with tension. If it wasn't Hermione in the bed, who was it? Malfoy glanced over his shoulder.

"It's Colin," she whispered.

"Who?"

Potter raised to his one elbow. "Colin Creevy. He's a Gryffindor. They brought him in last night."

A Gryffindor?

"What, so it got into Gryffindor Tower?" He glanced over at Granger, worried just how close she'd come to being its next meal. Or victim. "How's that possible?"

Granger looked up with distraught eyes. "I have no idea."

"That's not all who came last night," Potter sighed. "Dobby came. He was the one who bewitched that Bludger and closed the Platform. He's going to kill me trying to save my life."

Hermione grabbed Malfoy's arm. A hot set of flutters erupted below his skin as he stared down into lovely warm eyes. They went on for ages. Deep into her soul like an infinite abyss.

She licked her lips. "Why is he doing this?"

Her need. It was so palpable.

"I don't know, but Dobby serves my father. I doubt he'd risk being punished for nothing," he said sadly. "Whatever it is, means that my father is the one behind these attacks and the Chamber of Secrets opening."

Hermione noticed the time, almost time for class, and dragged Malfoy out of the Hospital Wing and down to Potions before Professor Snape murders them both with a cold glare. He was particularly bothered by the brilliant witch. Every class when she inevitably raised her hand to answer one of his million questions, he took a long sigh and called upon her, almost always cutting her short before she was done.

Snape lurked in the corner when the pair entered the dungeon classroom together. He lifted a brow.

"Playing nicely, you two?" He drawled. "Not planning on hatching another duel, are you, Mr. Malfoy?"

As Head of Slytherin House, Snape was parlay to all detentions given. Malfoy had quite a few for unauthorized dueling on school grounds. Most against his own House mates.

Those clad in green sneered as he walked by with a Muggleborn so near. With a vengeful curse on the loose, everyone made sure to keep their distance lest get caught up into something that wasn't against them.

Hermione looked at Malfoy with a sorry smile.

"I just happened to run into Malfoy in the hall, Professor."

First year he'd made a point to avoid being seen with Gryffindor friends by Slytherins. That was before the Chamber of Secrets. None of that mattered now. Let his father and mother hear.

Snape descended in a cloud of black. He looked straight through the Gryffindor like she was nothing but a speck of dust upon his robes. It was no surprise that he despised the lions, although no one knew exactly why.

"We're going to be partners for the day," Malfoy announced.

The class snapped in attention. A click sounded throughout the silent room; it was Crabbe's jaw as it dropped to the floor.

Hermione stepped closer. "We are?"

The blonde stood straight as he faced his Professor with a set jaw. He wouldn't let anyone tell him to stay away.

"Then find your seats!" The professor boomed.

They snaked their way to an empty table with a pewter cauldron atop. A single flame licked the bottom gently. Malfoy set down his stack and waited for Hermione to do the same. She looked back.

All the Gryffindors gawked. Their eyes watched them like a display of something unique. It took a displeased call to attention from Snape's wand to turn them all toward front.

Malfoy sensed her discomfort. He forced a smile as she sat near. The moment she saw it, her lips unlocked from their tight line.

"Today's potion is Sleeping Draught," Snape announced with disregard for any raised hands. "If you didn't study the reading I assigned, then you are sure to fail. If you do so and get any of that sticky slime on my floor, you will spend detention licking it up. Do you understand?"

A mumble from his class didn't please him, but he bit his tongue.

Sleeping Draught. That was an easy one. Malfoy could make that in his sleep. He nudged Hermione gently. "Bet you that we make the best on in class."

She rolled her eyes. "Only if you do what I say."

"Malfoy's don't take orders," he scoffed.

"Shame. I thought I could make use of you," she chuckled. "Do you want to do the stirring?"

He thought for a moment. "What job do you want to do?"

"Stirring is the most important…"

"You're right," he said. "I should do the stirring."

"Prat."


	4. Chapter 4

Lockhart's Dumb Plan

"Why do we have to do this?" Ron Weasley groaned as he looked around the Great Hall.

A red sky filled with falling hearts, pink roses everywhere, and Gilderoy Lockhart wore pink lady robes as he marched around the Hall with a growing crowd of female followers. The man was an idiot. No boy wanted to go through a day like this. Hearts, and candy, flowers?

"It's about love, Ronald."

Hermione had her face buried in a new book. The sound of crisp pages as she turned each one with marvel. She glanced up once. Her brown eyes landed on a certain blonde across the room and ducked away behind the page with a blush.

Ron rolled his eyes and leaned toward the half-awake Harry. "What's wrong with her?"

"Ah, Malfoy is being all nice now. He got her a new book."

So that's why she was reading at breakfast. "Does she have to do that here? I'm trying to actually eat my food, not throw it up."

His friend smiled over his juice. "Dare you to ask her to put it away."

"What? Dare? Who are you, Malfoy?"

He liked the bloke alright, but he was always around now. Harry and Ron never got to be around Hermione without Malfoy near, on the watch like a guard dog. It was odd. The way he treated her.

Then a horrid looking dwarf walked forward carrying a harp in one hand. There was a moment where they held each other's gaze and Ron felt faint. If he was given a Valentine through this surly man, he'd gladly plummet off his broom into the Black Lake.

Of course, it was better than hearing a murderous voice in your head like Harry.

"Did you send anything to anyone, Harry?" Hermione was suddenly right next to Ron. He jumped.

"Blimey, make some noise, Mione." He clutched his chest. "I thought you were one of those things."

"They're supposed to be Cupids, Ron." She sighed.

Muggle things were always lost to him, no matter how she explained.

"No," Harry finally answered. "Did you?"

A kind smile came to her eyes as she produced two chocolate-covered oranges. One for each of the boys. They blushed as they accepted them. Neither said a thing. They hadn't thought to give her a gift on a day meant for love.

She didn't mind. The book kept her pleased throughout the day. She read it in class when she completed her work ages before everyone else, and when there was a study period or just in the library for fun. It amused her.

The boys were baffled as she carried it around, never putting it down.

"Think I should tell her about the diary we found?" Harry asked his best mate as they headed back to the common room. He hadn't told Hermione of the diary Ron and he found in Myrtle's bathroom. She was anxious enough with the attack on Justin Fletchly and Nearly Headless Nick.

Ron snorted. "Like she'd notice if you had a boggart on your head. All she does is read that book."

"And hang with Malfoy."

"Yeah. What's up with that? I thought they hated each other," Ron pondered.

Harry's eyebrows raised. "Do you ever listen? They argue all the time. Last night I found them arguing about whether ingredients or technique produced a better potion."

It was no surprise. Both were incredibly ambitious students. Potter and Weasley just wanted enough to pass their classes. Hermione and Malfoy fought over first place like a pair of greedy dragons. Only the treasure was top student, not gold.

"Nerds."

"Tell me about it," Harry agreed.

They turned a corner and found Hermione and Malfoy as they walked back from the library arguing. What a shock.

Ron raised his hand to greet them but was promptly stripped of his scarf and hat. Malfoy plopped them down on Hermione and wrapped it around her neck until only her eyes showed.

"Warm enough?" He grumbled. "I asked if you should take a jumper, but nooo. 'Draco, I'm a grown woman who can decide my own temperature' and look where we are. Potter, give me that jumper before she is frozen solid. Why did you wait to turn blue before saying something?"

Malfoy assisted yanking the sleeves down off Harry's jumped and handed it over to the bushy haired mummy. There was enough left to see her frustration through the layers wrapped over her. A jumper, an orange striped scarf made by Molly Weasley herself and matching hat. There were black leather gloves on her hands, compliments of Malfoy no doubt.

"Thank you. _Thank you._ I am warm enough now," she said. "Will you stop it?"

Malfoy stopped rewrapping the scarf.

"Fine. As long as you start walking faster. I hate having to stop every few yards so you can catch up," he groaned. "Such short legs."

Hermione rolled her eyes. "If you'd stop sprinting ahead!"

"I have places to go," he reasoned.

The two fizzled down, ready to let their pettiness simmer and greet their friends like normal people.

"What are you two up to?" She asked with a smile.

Ron and Harry knew the answer she was looking for: School work. A large paper was due in Charms class and in Potions, thanks to Hermione. Neither had even started.

Harry spoke first, "Just getting started on our papers."

"You aren't done with that yet?" Malfoy gawked.

Ron suddenly felt flushed. "Hey, mate. You're supposed to be on our side."

"The side of late assignments?" Hermione crossed her arms. "Have you even considered what classes you want to take next term?"

Oh, right. She had said to do that, too.

Harry winced. "Ah, sorry, Mione. I forgot."

Down the hall a stern looking woman in flowing maroon robes clicked up toward the group. Tiny spectacles hung off the tip of her nose. Wrinkles moved to a pleasant surprise as she beheld the group.

"Move along. Stay in your common rooms," she reminded. "Mr. Malfoy, I'm afraid you'll have to head down toward Slytherin House. A strict schedule has been implemented to protect students from falling petrified. Ms. Granger, you should know better."

Hermione's mouth fell open. "Yes, Professor. Malfoy and I were just preparing our class requests for next term."

McGonagall beheld the young Malfoy with a sharp eye. It was not typical of a member of a pureblood family to associate with a Muggleborn, particularly the one that Draco hailed from. Lucius Malfoy was a constant pain as he demanded more and more from Severus. He was hard on his boy. Lucius didn't care for his only son being outshone by a Muggleborn witch.

Sensitive male ego.

It left a great surprise to all when Draco Malfoy openly befriended Harry Potter and his group of friends. They were a close-knit group. Not many entered that inner circle. Mr. Malfoy had to have a redeeming quality that they all saw.

The professor couldn't chance that risk upon her students.

"I'm sorry, Mr. Malfoy. You'll have to move along," she said with a sad smile. "Professor Snape will be addressing the lot of you this evening. Best not make him wait."

Malfoy nodded. "Yes, Professor."

He turned to his friends and waved. "See you later. Be safe."

Hermione waved gently as he left the corridor. McGonagall noted the expression on the young witch's face.

Oh dear, the elderly witch thought to herself, that is not good.

They all stepped through the portrait hole and entered the warm Gryffindor Tower. Adored in their house colors, red and gold, the room glowed with love as students gathered around together with their textbooks in hand, talking amongst themselves.

The days of safety were numbered. Hermione felt the tension between the teachers as the weeks passed on. Not a single person was un-petrified yet.

"Hermione, you missed the best thing ever," Fred Weasley exclaimed loud enough for the entire tower to heat.

She smirked. "Well don't leave me waiting. Tell me what it was that I missed."

"It was excellent," the other Weasley twin, George, added.

"Perfect," Fred agreed.

"Sad I didn't think of meself," George snickered.

They could go on like that forever. If she let them.

Hermione playfully shoved their shoulders. "Go on and tell us."

"Harry got a personal song delivered for a Valentine," Fred said pointing his finger at Harry.

It was clear from her friend's expression that he was mortified. His green eyes looked everywhere around the room apart from her.

She smirked. "Well it's no surprise Harry's got an admirer. He's Harry Potter."

"Now the whole castle knows," Ron grumbled.

She was about to ask when he meant when Ginny Weasley stood up suddenly and stomped her way up the stairs toward her dorm. It echoed so just about every person heard it and noticed her bright red face.

It was obvious that Ginny adored Harry and ached for him to return her affections. But that was no reason to humiliate him in front of the entire school. Crabbe and Goyle would have a hayday with that, if they hadn't already.

The two Slytherin oafs already started an awful chant about Draco whenever he was near. She hated the way he played into their hand every time, demanding a duel. He was a superior fighter, that much as true, but Crabbe and Goyle teamed up on him. He got hexed to bloody hell once that he was a rat for a full hour until she realized it was Draco.

Harry and Ron made sure to accompany him whenever they suspected he'd fight. If only to back him up. The wizard would never turn down a challenge. It drove her bonkers.

There were times when Harry wasn't able to prevent Malfoy from being foolish. Quidditch practice demanded so much of his time. Luckily Draco was on Slytherin team, too, but the practices were never at the same time.

That was when Ron got his assignments done or played chess with Dean or Seamus in the common room. It was left to Hermione to babysit Malfoy.

One day, Draco said he was going to study with Blaise in the common room, so Hermione took Ron to the Pitch to wait for Harry. He'd been complaining of the voice again.

Even though the Gryffindors and Draco believed that Harry was innocent, many students believed that just because he spoke Parseltongue it meant he was Slytherin's direct heir. He did have Slytherin's locket, said he found it in Grimmauld Place, a home of known Slytherins. Only she knew that, though. He kept it hidden away.

Suddenly, she stopped.

"Merlin, that's it!" She jumped up and down. But was it possible? It had to be. No, she wasn't positive.

Harry and Ron were confused.

"What's it, Mione?" Ron asked. "The Hufflepuff game? Harry doesn't think they're that good of a team."

She was too excited to even explain. She wished them good luck and ran to the library as fast as she could. There was a book she stumbled upon long ago when she was doing research on Slytherin and his house animal, a snake.

Parseltongues could obviously understand snakes since they communicated with them. Perhaps, Harry heard a snake's thoughts as it rummaged through the school in search of those who weren't filled with magical blood.

How did it know who had magic blood? How did it get around? A snake was obvious.

Susan Bones nearly fainted with a snake hatchling had found its way into the greenhouse once. Snakes were a notable sighting in the castle.

Hermione paused. This was no ordinary snake. It petrified people. Magical or not, the snake was dangerous. She rummaged through her pockets for something, some kind of protection.

All she had was a Muggle pen (don't tell Professor Snape) and a pocket mirror she'd forgotten to put away after breakfast. She frowned. Not exactly a battle arsenal. Her wand was brilliant, but what kind of spell would defeat a murderous snake?

Through the shelves she flew. Not caring that Madame Pince was absent from her usual desk.

She found the right place. She remembered the time she'd found it and was certain this was the aisle.

Hermione propped up the mirror on the edge of the shelf as she sorted through rows and rows and rows. Her memory failed her on the title and as she skimmed, none seemed right.

Books about snakes. Why weren't those properly labeled?

She grabbed hold of the mirror as she ran to another place she thought it might be. Instead, she kept the mirror in one hand and searched with the other.

A while later, Hermione jotted a note down on a copied text of a book. It had to be it. All of it worked together. She celebrated a minute, before she heard something.

Slick. It clinked in sync as it passed through the rows of shelves of the library like the sound of fingernails tapped against a worktop.

It was in the library, in the rows, coming closer.

Oh, no. The noise stopped.


	5. Chapter 5

Petrified

Blaise and Draco were in the Great Hall at the end of the Slytherin table. Their lunch plates in front of them, roast chicken with garlic potatoes and plum pudding. Their glasses twice filled with pumpkin juice.

"Haven't seen you for a while." Blaise took a long sip from his goblet. "What have you been up to?"

Draco shrugged. "Ah, me and Weasley and Potter practices Quidditch whenever we get the chance. I'm on the team now. Potter's helped me turn Seeker. Chasers better, but they didn't have an opening for a Chaser. Weasley knows a bit about the game. He's had like, ten siblings play on the team. Wouldn't think it but he's a good player."

"Hm," Blaise mumbled.

"Don't play coy, Zabini. It's not your forte."

His friend smirked. "I couldn't help but realize you failed to mention the bookworm."

"Oh, Granger? What about it?"

"So, you are two friends?" He prodded.

There were many things that he wondered about Hermione, one of them being how she felt about him. He hadn't gathered up the courage to directly tell her. But, Merlin. He spent all his time with her. A Valentines gift, too. That meant something. Surely, she was aware.

The piercing glare of his friend turned Draco's thoughts away from her. "Never seen you interested in such things, mate. If you know something that I don't, please share. Clear by your face that something's eating you, isn't it?"

"Still friends, yeah?" Blaise smirked. "Means you haven't told her how you feel."

Draco opened his mouth to reply when Potter and Weasley ran in. They dragged him out of his seat. They grabbed hold of his arms and pulled him down the corridor. Their feet slapped against the stone noisily.

"What are you doing, Weasley? Potter?" Malfoy asked, dragging his feet as the pair hauled him along.

If only he was a bit taller, he could stop them.

"Come on," they said, but revealed nothing more.

"You could at least knock me out before abducting me. I might get a nap in then," Malfoy sneered, already tired of the game. Whatever it was.

Weasley groaned. "Does it ever stop?"

"Only when you tell me what's going on," Malfoy spat. "And let go of me. I can walk on my own."

Potter and Weasley shared a nervous look. It took a moment, but the pair released his arms. He fidgeted around with his robes for a moment, brushing out the wrinkles, before facing his two friends.

Neither came to the Slytherin table, ever. They also never paraded around in Quidditch gear. Potter was dressed in the entirety of his Gryffindor uniform. Weasley, too, was adorned in scarves and gloves and a thick jumper.

Wait, wasn't there a Quidditch game today?

"Why aren't you on the Pitch?" He asked.

Potter shook his head. "Never mind that. You said you could walk so walk. We have to go."

"Go where?" None of it made sense. "Where do we have to go?"

He followed their trail quickly. The steps started to race as they got close to their destination. Their faces turned to worry as they approached the closest Professor.

McGonagall stood in the middle of the corridor with a sorry expression on her face; eyes glistened with emotion. Nothing rattled the witch. Gryffindor Head of House was known for her fair but firm demeanor, never shaken but by the worry of her students. She fretted over them like a mother hen and her chicks. Much like Hermione.

Oh. Hermione. Where was she?

The beat of his chest changed as he thought of how much he missed her. He'd only seen her that morning. It wasn't that long. He wasn't that needy.

The elder witch looked over the boys with discerning eyes. "I see you found Mr. Malfoy."

Weasley nodded. "Yeah. He's got to be here, too."

She nodded, toying the handle of the Hospital Wing. Malfoy did a double take. Hospital Wing! The look he shot Potter was answered back with a shrug. Whatever it was, none of them knew. They must have gotten him before McGonagall explained.

"Now. I must warn you. This may come as a wee bit of a shock," the witch said. She walked down through the aisle of white curtained beds, with two more additions.

Two more students were petrified? Ice washed over his body, froze him in place.

No. It couldn't be.

Weasley and Potter walked behind the curtain and were instantly struck.

"No! Hermione!" Potter gasped.

"Wake up, Mione." Weasley touched her body but was horrified when it was solid, a single slab of stone. "She's gone cold."

It was all surreal. There was no way it was possible. Hermione Granger was the brightest witch of the age, impossible to be taken victim by some nameless entity based in hate and genocide. She wouldn't go down without a fight.

A starched bed in a hospital wing barely lit by the light of the windows. No privacy. No personal touches. Every day, every victim the same.

He should have been there.

"Mr. Malfoy?" McGonagall eyed him behind her glasses. "I know this is difficult, but she might aware of what's going on around her. She needs her friends more than ever."

A volcano inside wanted to burst. Hot, spewing anger. His hands trembled against his thighs.

No matter how much his friends needed him, he wasn't strong to face her. Not yet.

"I can't do this," he said. "I can't."

Burning gushes pooled against his tongue. He wouldn't let her see him like this.

"What do you mean?" Weasley asked with an open mouth.

Potter pushed his lips together. "I understand, Malfoy. We'll see you later."

"What?" Weasley pushed Potter's shoulder in question.

"Drop it, Ron. They'll come around when they're ready."

The castle blurred as Draco Malfoy ran his way to Slytherin common room, wound through numerous students, tripped over Goyle's outstretched ankle and barely made it to the loo to vomit through tears. He turned a flushed mess as he bent over the bowl and poured his insides out.

He staggered to standing, unable to believe what just happened.

 _His father hurt Hermione._

It was all his fault. He should have just let the Transfiguration exam gut his grade, rather than studying with Blaise he could have been with Hermione as he was supposed to. She was supposed to be at the Quidditch match with Weasley, that was the plan, but ended up in the library instead.

It was all his fault. He failed her. His friend could die because of him. How long did the petrified last?

"Malfoy? You alright?" There was a knock at the door. "I heard about the bookworm."

"Go away, Zabini." Draco groaned.

There was a faint shushing on the other side before Blaise spoke again.

"Don't be that way, mate. Come out of there. We'll play a game of wizard's chess."

"I can't," he said.

A subtle scoff. "What? Too afraid I'll beat you?"

"I wouldn't be afraid of you beating me if I gave you a cane and a head start," he snapped.

Blaise knocked again. "Then come out."

His tone was getting more and more forceful in a way that got underneath Malfoy's skin. He hated the familiarity that his friend addressed him, like he was bound to his commands in some kind of agreement. There was only one person who forced Draco Malfoy to do anything and she was laid in a hospital bed.

His face fell. Even as his friend finally got him to open the door, Draco was a sorry excuse of a chess partner.

Still, they played in the comfort cool of the common room as students filtered in and out. Draco stayed focused on the board. Even in his distress, he couldn't let Blaise Zabini beat him at a game. He never beat Draco.

"Heard your father is on his way here, Malfoy," Pansy said from the couches. She was sprawled over the arm with her legs, head on a cushion with a piece of parchment in hand. Knowing her, it wasn't an assignment. "Your mother just wrote me."

Pansy and Draco knew each other from childhood, too. Only it was a forced association. The sound of her voice prompted him to retreat to the farthest reaches of the Manor to avoid a dreaded conversation about her newest dress or a pet she was already tired of.

Draco kept focused on the game.

Her prodding was unsuccessful. However, it got his competitor interested and a might distracted. Strategy was thrown off when concentration broke.

"He is a governor of the school, Pansy. That's not news," Zabini retorted.

"Yeah, but he's here for special reason. Imagine what that is now that the prized Mudblood was struck," Pansy said.

That word. He knew it well. His father said it every other word, in disgust or anger. Draco hated it. He hated the way it sounded, so dirty and vile.

He hated the lot of the world that embraced the word in common tongue. It was snickered around in insults toward Hermione, often.

Draco noticed his hand clenched against the arm of his chair. He dropped it immediately.

"He's coming to escort Dumbledorf out the castle." Pansy laughed at her own joke.

"None of them will stand a chance with the Headmaster gone," Draco mumbled in frustration.

It was difficult not to bait right into their traps. Slytherin loved to lay down the work of fury so that when Draco finally snapped, it was an explosion that landed him straight into detention and left Hermione disappointed for an entire week.

"What was that, Malfoy?" Goyle sat in the corner. He hadn't said much before then. Draco almost had forgotten he was there. "Crying over your girlfriend?"

Pansy snorted. "Malfoy wouldn't date a Mudblood. You know what his father would do to him?"

"Seems like his tastes have turned muddy to me," Goyle said. "To be with a bloody whore like Granger takes a filthy palate, indeed."

Wand was in his hand before he even realized. Draco raised from his seat and knocked it to the floor. Eyes widened in surprise as they saw him armed and ready against a House mate.

"Rictusempra," Draco shot.

The spell hit Goyle straight, and he fell down to the ground laughing so loud that he snorted every other breath. Draco shot it once more, and then again. He stepped closer to his fallen comrade as the other Slytherins watched indifferent to the outcome, though he knew that wished Goyle would get a few fires back before it was broken up by Snape.

He seemed to always know when they fought.

"Expelliarmus."

Goyle's wand clattered against the wand and dropped to the ground. But that wasn't enough. It wasn't good enough.

What he said about Hermione, he deserved worse.

"Wingardium Leviosa," Draco said. Goyle rose from the floor wherever Draco's wand pointed him. "Now that I've gotten your attention, listen well. I won't tolerate another word against Granger or so help me, I'll parade you through the castle just like this. Hoist you up to the rafters and hang you in the Great Hall for all to see."

The look in Goyle's face was delicious. Although it gave no comfort to his rage that radiated through him. He wanted to string him up anyway.

"Apologize, Goyle, and I'll put you down."

"Never!" He shouted.

Draco smirked. "Perfect. I've always wanted to know what that little Ravenclaw twin would do when she saw your trousers around your ankles. Guess I get to find out."

"You wouldn't dare." Goyle started to fight; there wasn't much he could do. Draco was in complete control.

Dare? Oh, he loved a dare.

Decided, Malfoy walked toward the exit of the common room when Goyle started to scream furiously, face red with anger.

"I'll kill you, Malfoy. You hear me? I'll kill you if you go out there."

He stopped and turned around. "Then give us an apology and I'll let you down."

Goyle groaned, fighting against the air that held him in place. His arms flailed up and around. It was like a beached whale as he groaned and moaned. A roar of laughter came as all the Slytherins poured out of the dorms to watch the fight. They chanted and cheered as Draco swirled Goyle above their heads, drowning in air.

A few first years fired their hex spells, the chance never again to present itself so easily.

"An apology, Goyle. Now! I want to hear you apologize or the next moment, I'll bring you for everyone to see."

Suddenly the portal opened, and Crabbe walked in with a mouthful of sweets. "Goyle?"

Draco moved to strike him, too, but Blaise already held out his wand. "Don't think so, mate. It's between Goyle and Malfoy."

"Crabbe! Do something!" Goyle shouted between his frightening laughs.

"I can't. They've got their wands on me," Crabbe said.

"Well do something," Goyle cried.

Draco grew tired of the game. He wanted Goyle to know just how mortified Hermione felt when he called her that word.

"Step aside, Crabbe," Draco said. "Goyle's going to be the new decorations."

"No! Don't!"

His friend moved Crabbe out of the way so Draco could march through with his prized catch. He said the password, ready to enter the rest of the castle with a cheering crowd of Slytherins when Goyle suddenly groaned in agony.

"Alright, fine. I'm sorry," Goyle said.

Ah. Just what he wanted to hear.

Draco smirked up. "Sorry for what, Goyle?"

"That wasn't part of the deal!"

"It is now," Malfoy said. "Go on. We're all listening."

The Slytherin common room was in an uproar by the time that Draco beelined for the Hospital Wing, now ready to face his friend. He raced down through the corridors as fast as he could manage.

He arrived on the doorstep of the wing where a very plump woman stood with a concerned look.

"What are you doing out on your own?" Madame Pomphrey asked.

"I'm here to see Hermione Granger," Draco declared. "I'm ready. Please."

The woman looked down at his flush. "Are you alright, young man?"

"Yes. Please." He stood on his tiptoes to see her bed. It was so close. "Can I see her?"

"You really shouldn't be out without an escort," she said softly.

Draco felt the weight of what might happen if he couldn't see his friend. He'd die. He'd lay down on the floor and just wait for either the mediwitch to let him in or for Hermione to walk out.

"Please," he begged. "I have to see her."

He could see the compassion on the elder witch's face. The wrinkles of her eyes sloped as she beheld him in the hallway, out of breathing from running and the utter pounding anxiety of seeing Hermione in that position. Frozen solid. _Petrified._

It wasn't his fault. It was a Malfoy's fault, but not his.

Merlin, he hoped she wouldn't hate him when she woke.

Madame Pomphrey bustled off to make tea, leaving him on his own to find the way to Hermione's side. He tried to stop the threatening vomit at the back of his throat. Whatever little bravery was inside him was dwindling. Goyle had given him some attempt, but now he was on the outside of the blasted white curtain again and he was still.

He swallowed that back down. Potter wouldn't pause if his friend was hurt. Not even Weasley paused. They were both so unafraid to see her like that, unafraid of what they'd feel when her lifeless eyes stared back at them, black orbs of soullessness.

Draco stepped inside the curtain with his eyes closed, breath held. It was time for him to face it. He knew it was true. The entire school knew that Hermione was petrified by the monster of Slytherin, another connection to him. His father and his House.

Her body was awkward. It was propped up with layers of pillows under her knees and elbows. One arm was raised chin height, off to the side.

It wasn't Granger. Not the one that he knew. What laid in bed was a shell with a painted mask of Granger's features. The wily untamed hair. Pale skin, paler than usual. Expressive lips pulled back in horror.

He sighed. It looked similar but it wasn't her.

"Hey Granger," he said, weakly. "Thought you'd be dying to see me. Oh, um, wait. Not that you're dying. Just, petrified. That's not dead. Of course, that you already know."

Silently he hoped that she couldn't hear.

A chair sat by her bedside, basic in every way. He helped himself to it.

The quarantined bed was bleached white with a bedside table. Not much color except the yellowy light from the windows above. It was ghastly. He figured his friend would like it. Girls liked clean things, didn't they? It was tidy with neatly folded corners and sheets pulled tight.

He sat in the quiet of the Hospital Wing with Hermione without much thought at what to say. Most time they spent together discussed their research. Or school work. To be truthful, her witty charm and unfathomable determination where the only things he knew about her.

She liked to read, but that was obvious. Her friends were limited to Potter and Weasley. Now him, too. There weren't many girls that came around. Most Gryffindor girls clung to each other as they walked through the castle; Hermione was always alone. The library was her favorite spot in the castle. It was anyone's guess since it was where she spent all of her time.

Malfoy pondered what her life was like as a Muggle. Before she knew she was magical. That was a topic that never got brought up and she never offered. He wasn't going to invade on things he didn't understand. However, it felt like a safe thing to ease her time.

"You never told me what your parents are like," he found himself saying. "Do they find you irritating with your infinite knowledge or are they just the same? I bet they're the exactly like you. You wouldn't have survived if they weren't. They'd have sent you off."

He chuckled. "Oh, calm down. I can tell you are going to be mad about that and you're not even awake. Oh so predictable, Granger."

There was a quiet time when he reflected on his own upbringing. Not so pleasant, until Potter showed up. It was instant between Potter, Sirius and Draco. A happiness that he'd never known. Comfort.

"You know," he paused for a moment before he continued, "my parents weren't always the best. In fact, I don't remember a time that I ever liked them. My father. He is a cold man. My mother is colder still. Very formal. It isn't acceptable to speak your mind against your family. That's what they say. And boys. Wizards, they have to be strong, and tough. Better in every way. He used to make me fly out on my broom until the moon was out some nights, until I didn't fall off anymore."

He'd had bruises on his backside that hurt for weeks after that. The house elves helped as much as they could, even after Lucius' instructions that he should suffer through it to learn his lesson.

"I wasn't a natural, you see, and all Malfoy's are naturals on a broom. Even his sister could fly well. It was such an insult to him. His own sister flew better than his son. It tainted his mouth with disgust, so he'd have to spit it out each time he said it," Draco sighed. "That's actually how I met Potter. Did he tell you? We had lessons together, for Quidditch and flying. Sirius wanted him to learn from the best. My father had the same idea. Only Sirius was there to cheer on Potter, rather than an elf dropping me off. We got along great. Even Sirius liked me! He even knew who I was and still liked me."

It was sad to recall how well Sirius treated him compared to his own parents who brushed him off onto elves at first chance. He never felt welcome. Malfoy Manor was a place all its own that belonged to no one but the name of Malfoy.

Grimmauld Place was different. He was welcome there. It was open to him whenever he needed. Remus gave him wardrobe of his favorite things to keep with them while Sirius awarded his childhood bedroom to Draco before his own son. Potter swore he didn't want it. He liked the one he had.

There was a disturbance of the silence in the room around. He heard the steps that he assumed would come get him and force him back to Slytherin. Probably to face detention from Professor Snape.

They drew near Hermione's bed. Draco sighed.

It was goodbye for the night.

"How is she?" Potter popped his head into the room.

He startled. He'd expected the busty mediwitch, not Potter. Where was his escort?

"The same." Draco looked at his fallen friend. She'd always be the same.

Potter nudged in through the curtains and closed them tightly. "We've been looking for you everywhere."

"We?"

Out of thin air popped a floppy head of red hair. "Told you he'd be here!" Weasley's head swirled around until it faced Draco. "Harry wanted to go talk to a Slytherin and get you to come out, but I knew wouldn't be there with all those gits."

Malfoy suddenly realized just what it was; they were under the invisibility cloak.

"Hermione would agree with me," Potter stated. "They are his house mates, aren't they? It was a logical guess."

"Since when do we do logical guesses?" Weasley asked.

Draco smirked. "You're missing the key ingredient for it, you know. Logic."

"Always got something to say, don't you?" Weasley narrowed his eyes. "Just like Hermione. Last word for everything."

Potter pushed both their shoulders. "Listen, we don't have time for this. Malfoy, want to go with us to Hagrid's? We've got to ask him about the Chamber of Secrets."

He scrunched his nose. "Hagrid? How's he going to know? It isn't a common pet they just have lying around eating souls, Potter."

"No, we got a diary that showed me how Hagrid got expelled from Hogwarts," Potter explained, frustrated. "He was the one who opened the Chamber of Secrets before. If he did it before, he's got to have some idea to whose doing it now. Look, are you coming or not?"

Finding out how to save Hermione would relieve his terrible guilt. Perhaps, she'd look past his father's actions and see that he tried to save her.

Still. It just wasn't right. He wanted to be with her.

"There's only room for two in that cloak," he said. "We can't all three fit."

Weasley sighed. "Told you, Harry."

"We can fit if you duck down."

Malfoy grimaced. "And have your arse in my face the entire way down to Hagrid's? No, thank you. I think I'll just keep Granger company."


	6. Chapter 6

Help With Homework

Time passed slowly in the Hospital Wing. Nothing much happened. First years came because of home sickness, their stress of exams, or basic injuries with brooms or mishaps in Transfiguration. Draco only listened because there wasn't much else to hear.

He did his homework at her bedside, sure to explain each step so Granger didn't feel left out. It would be an insult to do a paper without her inclusion.

One day as he was perched up with his books and parchment, a visitor arrived.

She was quiet. He hadn't heard the little girl approach. Just one moment he looked up and there she was, all wide eyed and pale.

"Oh," she said. She turned to leave, and Draco felt guilty.

"Wait. Don't go," he pleaded.

The young girl stopped. She had bobbed Weasley-red hair. She was dainty and fragile looking.

"She likes the company," he explained awkwardly. "That's what they say."

Girl Weasley came back by the bed. Her eyes flickered down the length of Hermione's frozen body. She looked terrified to see her friend that way, in a bed, unmoved, not blinking.

She turned her eye to him. "Is she…Does it hurt?"

"No. She's just, there."

"How do you know if she knows you're here or not," the girl asked as her fingers brushed against the bottom of Hermione's shoe.

Draco grew uncomfortable with the tears in the little girls' eyes. "I don't."

It was painful to say the least. The young girl stared down with intense, crazy eyes. There was a sudden need to get her away. Something in Draco's gut knotted into a ball and turned all wrong.

He stood closer to Hermione, a hand on her mattress. "She won't be better for a bit yet. The antidote is still being brewed."

The girl nodded and adjusted her red and gold tie. She was shaken, unkempt. There was a bag under each eye, darkened from lack of sleep.

School books lined the bed near Hermione, and he made no effort to move them away. He was there to stay. His paper was still undone. More so, there was something off about Girl Weasley. She was suspicious looking and suspicious acting. Draco sat down in his chair, crossed his ankles and waited her out.

She took the looks for a while but turned tail and ran away as soon as he glanced away.

His shoulders fell to their natural state when he realized she was gone. Entirely. The doors latched close before he settled again. Something about the girl was unsettling. Whatever it was, and he wasn't sure if it was instinct or his over-protective edge he'd developed since Hermione was struck by the wrath of Slytherin, but he knew that he'd have to try harder. Harder than before. It was the only way he'd clear himself for the hatred his family held for Muggleborns and their right to magic.

The more he stared at his friend as she laid like a statue, the more the hate seeped to his gut. He hated the lot that did this to her. A group that his own parents were apart of. A nasty, disgusting, stilted circle of shallow elite families of old that tilted their noses in the air at anyone different, anyone less. It burned to be apart of such a circle. He didn't want to. The way they looked down at him like a born prince of the world when he just wanted to be like everyone else, it crawled over his skin like a curse.

Sirius was born the same as he. A wealthy old family that hated Muggleborns, but Sirius didn't let it stop him. He sought out a new family within the fray of the world, with guys like Remus and Potter's dad and a Muggleborn girl, similar to Hermione in every way that Draco could remember from Sirius' recollection.

He leaned forward and touched the ice-cold hand. "I'll never forgive him for this."

It rolled out of his throat before he realized. A blush came to his face but subsided when he realized that there was no one to witness the lapse in him, the emotional outburst, the reveal of his family life.

He didn't broadcast his home life. Pity. It was a slimy feeling inside when it climbed up through him, delivered at the sting of other people's eyes.

Once he saw it in Sirius and Remus. It made him feel ashamed. Weak.

Potter on the other hand never acknowledged the fact that Draco showed up at his door constantly. He never asked. The boy was no fool; he knew _why_. He just didn't ask. Draco was thankful for that. The first thing to come to mind would be a very easy distraction or perhaps an insult if Potter pushed it farther. He knew it was wrong to take it out on his friend. The friend that cared for him. It was a reflex for Draco to push away, hard.

He raised to his feet and gathered his things when there was the shuffling scuffle of feet as they raced down toward Hermione's bed.

"Malfoy!" Potter gasped.

"What?" Malfoy asked.

It took a moment for Potter, and Weasley alongside him, to catch their breath.

"What happened to you two?" Malfoy snipped. He disliked being left out. It irked him to see them in a similar state that he wasn't privy to.

Weasley spoke first. "Harry almost got me killed by a bunch of mutant spiders."

"Mutant spiders?"

Potter snapped back. "They weren't mutant, Ron. He's just a ninny. Scared of spiders. They are a special breed. Hagrid's kept him for years. That's not the point. Blimey! Point is Hagrid didn't open the Chamber of Secrets. He's innocent. It's something that spiders fear that is hurting everyone."

"Oi. Don't leave out the part where that thing tried to eat us," Weasley squealed. He turned to Malfoy. "I think that monster did it. He set his millions of children spiders on us, tried to eat us! Some friend of Hagrid's, that is. Bloody menace. Wouldn't put it past him to kill Myrtle."

"Moaning Myrtle? She's the one who died last time?" Malfoy said, hiding all surprise from his tone. He hadn't even thought of her. A girl trapped in a bathroom. Killed in a bathroom. "The creature clearly likes to target those away from everyone else."

Potter nodded. "We almost got there. McGonagall caught us before we could ask."

Potter and Weasley finally laid their eyes upon their friend in her bed, frozen. Their eyes swam with sadness, all of them did. It was difficult to see her.

Malfoy tried his best. "They say the antidote is almost ready. From the Mandrakes. Won't be long. Best someone be here when she wakes."

"I'll stay," Potter said.

He grabbed her hand lacing his fingers in her palm when a crinkle interrupted the reverie.

"What's this?" He mumbled aloud.

Weasley sighed. "Probably Charms homework. You know her."

Malfoy bristled on Hermione's behalf. "Punctual and responsible?"

"No. Addicted to writing. She volunteered for a longer length of an essay in exchange for ten House points," Weasley stated, not aware of Malfoy's frustration. "Come on, Malfoy. You know what I mean. She's always got a paper on her."

Potter sat quietly. His eyes squinted as they raced through the parchment. It was impossible to notice his interest.

"It's…it's the answer. She figured out what it was," he said softly.

Malfoy's eyes widened. "What?"

"Told you! She knows everything." Weasley threw his hands up in the air. "What is it now? A spider? Bet it's a spider. That Aragog is suspect enough."

Potter glanced up and met Malfoy's concerned eyes. "That's why she had the mirror. She knew it was coming."

The blow rippled through Draco. A punch through every fiber of his being, the very magic at his core rattled.

She knew she was going to be hurt. She _knew._

He blinked furiously as he tried to reign in his emotion. His fault. It was all his fault. If he'd just gone with her and not wanted to talk to Blaise about his ridiculous, painful crush, she'd be alive and well. The others would have been safe. His father wouldn't have won.

Weasley grasped at the paper. "Well what's it say, Harry?"

"How did she know it was coming?" Malfoy questioned.

It was impossible. How did she know?

Potter gulped thickly. Both of his friends heard it. They glanced over at each other, worried.

"The ancient enemy of spiders, a lifespan inexplicable, kills with it's very eyes and is something only Salazar Slytherin would be able to control," Potter said sadly. "A basilisk. That's why I can hear it. It's a bloody snake."

Weasley whimpered. "A snake?"

"We've got to go to Myrtle," Malfoy stated evenly.

Potter nodded. "She's the one who knows for certain."

"Hang on. She's a ghost," Weasley said. "Why wouldn't she tell someone? How come she didn't mention a giant ancient snake killed her?"

Malfoy and Potter silenced as they thought. Myrtle did like to talk. Most of it was to wallow in her own pity, but there was still no shortage of words.

Wait.

"What if she didn't realize that's what it was?" Malfoy grabbed the paper out of Potter's hand and read the information over. "It just says looking in it's eyes. What if she just saw them by accident, somewhere?"

"It's got to be close for that to happen," Potter said. "The bathroom. It's got to be it."

"A school bathroom? Where Slytherin does his bidding? Bit dicey, innit?" The look on Weasley's face was indescribable. "It doesn't seem like that old fart would lower his pride enough to hide it in a girl's loo."

Malfoy smirked. "Clearly you don't know Slytherins very well. It's the perfect place for it. No one would look for it there. Obviously, they haven't otherwise Dumbledore would have found it."

The announcement overhead startled the boys. It was Professor McGonagall's voice over the castle as it bounced its orders for students to head to their house dormitories and teachers head to the staffroom.

As fast as they could manage, the boys headed down to the staffroom to listen in. Malfoy found a hiding spot for all three, albeit uncomfortable to be so close. They listened in as the professor's listened to the dreaded announcement.

It was Ginny Weasley in the Chamber. She was taken by the creature, never to return.

Weasley's eyes filled up with water as he swallowed thickly. He was rigid as he listened. Malfoy felt sorry. He never knew what it was like to feel a bond of sibling love, but it was clear that it was deeper than he imagined. Weasley was overcome at the declaration that his sister's life was forfeit to the basilisk.

"We've got to go and tell them what we know," Potter said. "Well, Lockhart. He's going to try to attempt it."

"There is no way he will find it," Malfoy spat. "Can't you see it? None of the professors think him able. They think he's a joke."

Potter groaned. "We've got to do something!"

"Tell Dumbledore. Someone capable at the very least. Lockhart is going to get her and himself killed if he tries." Malfoy saw how they acted around the popular professor. He may be charming and handsome, but he was empty minded. How could Hermione be attracted to that? "We might even fare better than him."

"Can't do nothing. It's Ginny we're talking about here."

Malfoy looked up at Weasley. There was such desperation. It was his sister. His loved one in danger.

All Hermione was was petrified. Ginny could die. End. Completely be gone from the world. If it were Hermione…No, Malfoy couldn't even finish the thought.

"Let's go," he said. "We'll take that git Lockhart and force him with us if we have to."

That night lasted a while. Weasley and Malfoy were forced to remained behind with the memory erased Lockhart while Potter faced the snake alone. They were at the mercy of the wrath of Slytherin, and it was not kind.

It took what felt like ages but Potter came back with Dumbledore's trademark phoenix and Ginny Weasley, and a black book with a giant tooth through the leather bound cover. There were no questions worth asking. All of them were exhausted. Except the annoying Lockhart who wouldn't stop.

Weasley finally smacked the man unconscious just to save them a bit of sanity.

"Thank Merlin for that," Malfoy sighed.

"Yeah, now he's a loony. Don't 'pect all the witches will like that."

They each took a shoulder of the man's and carried him out of the Chamber, met by a group of concerned and alarmed Professors who kept them awake for hours more in questioning.

By the time Draco entered his dorm, the sun started to rise over horizon. He slept well for the first time in ages, sleeping well past noon.

It was a shock to awaken to Professor Snape within the empty dorm. Blaise headed off to class without him. Some mate he was.

"Mr. Malfoy," the professor drawled carefully.

Draco sat up within his bed. "Yes, sir?"

"I've been informed that Ms. Granger has been given her dose and shall be awake soon." There was an awkward silence where Draco's smiling caused the professor to shift away. "Do what you will with the information."

Draco nodded. He waited until the door latched close before he threw on the simplest robes he had and rushed down to the Hospital Wing. It was intense. They didn't want to let him in. Madame Pomphrey took pity on him since he'd spent so much time at Hermione's side, she allowed him in as long as he promised to be silent as the others awoke. She didn't want a full riot on her hands.

"How long will it take for her to come to?" He asked anxiously.

Her color was different. That was all.

"Depends, deary." The mediwitch smiled weakly. "She'll be around soon. I'm sure of it. She's a tough one that is."

He sat by her side with his essay in hand, reading it aloud in the small hopes that she'd find some point to argue and awaken for that very moment. The parchment dust landed on his eyelashes. His eyes burned as he blinked. Over and over he read the same line, unaware that he'd already done so.

It felt slightly like a tug on his thoughts. His neck fell backward as he slipped into black.

When he awoke there was a gentle crackling of paper. He jumped out his seat but saw that it was only Hermione hunched over his essay, quill in hand.

"You're correcting my essay?" He gaped.

Of all the things she could do when she awoke from perpetual void, it would be to do school work.

She smiled sweetly. "Afternoon, Malfoy. And yes. You've got some grammatical mistakes. Don't worry. I fixed them."

One last scratch and she handed over the parchment.

Draco snatched it away and scanned over it. "So glad I sat with you all this time just for you to become another professor. Welcome back, Granger."

"Wow. Already? Its not been an hour and you're pouting," Hermione said. "Overly sensitive, a bit, aren't you?"

Her audacity sparked insult.

"I've only just sat my arse here for weeks waiting for you to wake up. The least I'd expect is for you to be grateful." He was red in the face; it stung his cheeks.

Hermione went from calm to surprised. Her mouth formed a perfect 'O' as Draco grabbed hold of his things, ready to storm out of the wing. She actually grabbed hold of his hand before he turned away.

"Wait. I'm sorry."

He still stayed turned away, thankful she couldn't see the relief on his face. All the ways he imagined her waking from a petrified state were far off from the encounter. She'd been just as she always was. Perhaps it was all that they were. Study friends. Acquaintances. Friends with mutual friends.

Hermione shook his arm that she hugged. He felt her breath through his robes on his forearm.

"I'm sorry, alright? Just a bit of playing. You know how everyone is going to be when they see me. They'll coddle me like a child," she reasoned. A fair observation. Potter and Weasley treated like very carefully in her petrified state as one would an infant when she'd been stronger than stone. "That's not how you are, though. You don't treat me any different. It's what makes you a wonderful friend."

"Wonderful handsome friend, I think you mean."

There was a sweet smirk on her face when he turned around. He sat down on the edge of her bed. She moved over to make room, just enough for them not to touch.

She suddenly took hold of his shoulders and wrapped him up in a hug.

"So, I'll take that as a yes." He smirked and hoped she couldn't feel the rate of his heartbeat. "Don't fret. I'll keep your secret."

There was a smile against the shoulder of his robes. "Prat."

They sat a while in a soft hug until movement of the wing became apparent. Over the noise was Colin's startled heartbreak over the loss of his film from the year. His agony washed through the entire place to the point where Madame Pomphrey had to slip him a draught to settle his nerves.

Her hurried heels clicked against the stone as she rushed to each of the beds offering a bottle of draught, only peeked in on Hermione's bed, satisfied with the girl's mental state, slipped away to her other charges. Draco Malfoy sighed as he heard the woman retreat away without interrupt the one moment him and his friend had together in soft embrace before the world start around them again and he'd be forced to return to their lives as before.

Well, not entirely he hoped.

"By the way, did you always do your homework in here?" Hermione asked, releasing his shoulders from her warm hold.

Silently he wished for them back.

"Uh, a bit. Why?"

There was a subtle smile as she thought to herself. It was a sweet expression, one that warmed the pale of her cheeks with a healthy glow.

Draco lifted a brow.

"Penelope Clearwater swore she heard you reading your essay to me," she said. "I told her you just missed my help with your school work."

Penelope Clearwater was the other student petrified with Hermione. She was a Ravenclaw student that Hermione was found with in the library. It was no shock that either were there, a Ravenclaw and Hermione Granger. They practically lived there.

"Ha. Right. I'm sure she believed that. At least she better not have," he said.

She cast a knowing smile but said nothing more on the matter. It wasn't long before thing one and thing two stumbled in, overtired from a night of adventure and lack of sleep. However, there was no doubt that their Head of House roused them out of bed to visit their best friend.

The two were disheveled. Weasley still had on pajama pants with his school shirt, vest and tie. Black hair stuck in every direction on Potter's head like a wire brush.

The amused look on Hermione's face was answer enough.

"Long night?" She questioned with a smile.

Potter nodded and took a seat. He yawned loudly, stretching back in his chair.

Weasley was more ecstatic to see his friend revived. "Hermione. I can't believe it. You're not cold anymore."

"No, Ronald. I'm not." She laughed. "But I must ask, why do I look better than the pair of you? I'm the one whose been petrified."

"Didn't Malfoy tell you?" Weasley quipped.

Her eyes were suddenly on him. "Tell me what?"

"We figured out who was behind the Chamber of Secrets!" Weasley exclaimed. "Oh, and Harry killed a basilisk. But it was mainly all of us who figured out where it was in the first place. Moaning Myrtle's bathroom."

Hermione glanced over at Harry.

"You killed the creature of Salazar Slytherin?"

He scratched the back of his neck. "It was nothing, really. I mean, I had to save Ginny. Couldn't let her rot away like that."

"Ginny?" Hermione repeated with surprise.

"Girl Weasley opened the Chamber of Secrets under the direction of a cursed diary she got hold of," Draco explained stiffly. "She near brought a man named Tom Riddle back to life."

"Voldemort," Potter corrected. "She nearly brought Voldemort back to life."

Hermione crinkled her nose. "The one who tried to take over the government? Why would he want to kill Muggleborns?"

"Don't any of you know who Voldemort is?" Weasley gasped.

Draco wasn't positive in his knowledge of the Dark Lord. He'd heard about him, of course, but never given a true story of the man. It was hushed to silence soon after he was mentioned. Loads of witches and wizards were scared.

Sirius never explained to Potter or him who Voldemort was. He never hid the fact that the man was responsible for the Potter's deaths but never answered questions as to why. What had they done wrong? Why was he such a bad man?

Weasley was exacerbated. "Merlin! I have to explain to the two smartest people of the year who Voldemort is? Doesn't seem fair. You two know everything. Why don't you know this?"

"Overwhelmed with the feeling, are you Weasley?" Draco smirked.

"Very funny, Malfoy." He crossed his arms. "I just know you're going to ask lots of questions and I don't think I can answer them all. It's a lot to remember."

"Oh for goodness sake, Ronald. Just explain it to us."

Hermione did not relish the fact that he knew something she didn't. Draco, too, felt a little bit of jealousy over the fact that their peer who thought electricity was dark magic was the supreme knowledge of Voldemort and his everlasting effect of their lives.

Last year he'd come in the face (literally) of a professor. Much wasn't explained about the man. Just that he was mad and intent on harming Harry Potter, but none of it made sense.

That'd been when all three of his friends were laid up in the Hospital Wing without him because they hadn't let their friendship be known throughout the school. His father's influence and spies kept Draco particularly withdrawn from his peers.

Of course now, it was clear that this Voldemort character was going to pop back up again.

"He went mad and killed a whole bunch of people. People who liked Muggleborns and stuff," Ron explained. "Got a bunch of wizards to turn dark and kill all these people who stood in their way. That's what Death Eaters are. They're his guys."

A sudden tension came to Draco's chest as his mouth went dry. He tried to lick his lips but all that came was hot breath.

Hermione noticed his discomfort. It was visibly palpable. The other boys, shockingly, did not. Ron rattled on more about Death Eaters whilst Harry was engrossed entirely, adding a few points here or there, asking questions that were so simple that it was impossible for Ron not to know the answer, though he stumbled around with words.

Draco sat quiet on the bedside, face hard as stone as he listened intently but kept his eyes forward. Breath was not so easy in the revelation that his father wanted to kill people.

It was simple to hate. Draco himself hated seers. They were unnatural to the flow of things. But want to kill? That is an entirely different level.

Death Eaters were the worst of the wizards. He shared the identity, the name, the look as a prominent one.

A soft hand touched Draco's shoulder out of sight from the others. It gave a squeeze.

It helped ease the ache in his chest, but not the sense of despair. That would remain forever.

"I've been sitting in a bed for weeks now, and I'm positively starved, aren't you?" Her voice broke through the serious tone of the moment. It allowed the sound of breath to enter. "Let's head down to the Great Hall and you can tell me about all I've missed in class. Oh!" Her voice took a sudden change.

Draco snapped back and saw the horror upon her gentle features, panic near bursting out of her hands.

"What is it, Mione?" Potter asked quickly.

All three boys were flipped to high alert. They looked around their surroundings like a pack of wolves hunting for a scent to follow.

Meanwhile, Hermione hyperventilated into his hands. Draco looked for the mediwitch around the room, certain his friend was in pain and needed attending to. He tried but the woman was gone. No doubt escorting the newly awakened to their Heads of House for reentry.

He kicked himself. Maybe he should run for it? She wasn't that hard to miss.

The gasps stopped. All boys fixed their eyes to the bed where their friend laid, all twisted in confusion and worry.

Hermione fanned her eyes to keep from crying. "I've missed so much. Can't believe I'm going to be so far behind. The library! I can't eat. I've got to start working right away if I have any hopes of passing exams."

"That's what you're worried about?" Weasley cried out incredulously. "You had us scared over school work?"

Her eyes narrowed. "Not all of us are satisfied getting Acceptables so that we might goof around."

"The Professors will give you a pass," Potter said, trying to seem helpful. "You do have an excuse."

"What? She gets _out_ of exams because she got petrified? Why didn't anyone tell me?"

Draco shot Weasley a piercing stare. "Yes, Weasley. She signed up on the basilik's list just to get out of a few lousy assignments. Bravo. You've caught the true secret of the chamber. My, my Weasley. You should be an Auror. That sharp wit will get you anywhere."

He looked back at Hermione and offered a hand. There was a shimmer within the warmth of her eye as she observed the gesture and took it with a soft smile. Soft pink rounds captured her cheeks.

Over the weeks he'd gotten used to seeing her look so frozen solid in the bed, without color or much of life. He hated the cold grasp of her hands, the way her eyes glossed over. At times it felt all the hope of her ever waking were so low that he contemplated saying goodbye.

Color returned to her body and fluidity to her joints gave him more than relief. It gave him an eyehole into the depths of his feelings for the witch whom drove him crazy with frustration and joy as she continued to be herself without fail. Nothing changed between them. It was hard to believe that his affections escaped her notice.

Was Blaise right? Did he need to confess his feelings?

He already knew something was wrong but just the consideration that his mate might be right. Blaise couldn't be right. What did he know?


	7. Chapter 7

Grimmauld Place, Summer

A letter sat opened on the ebony table. A family full of smiling faces moved, paused for a moment all their eyes turned attention and waved before they set about fussing around themselves. All were wrapped in linen head coverings and tan robes as sand fluttered through the air. The large dunes of golden sand behind, as well as two crested peaks of giant pyramids, made obvious work of their location.

"It seems the Weasley's have won a vacation," Remus commented. He viewed the picture for a long moment and set it back down.

Sirius beheld his breakfast plate with more interest. "If you call Egypt a vacation."

He was in a grumpy mood. Something having to do with two boys eating treats all night and laughing their hardest. A cheerful disposition such as his was only gained with a full night's rest.

One denied by loud boys.

Remus was a bit more relaxed that morning. The moon was a few weeks off, and he'd returned to his more pleasant self, though still preferring to keep to himself unless spoken to.

"I'd call anything a vacation at this point," the werewolf retorted. "How long has it been since we left London? Not since Harry was a tike. You don't even leave when he's away at school."

Sirius regarded this dear friend with frustration. "It is not safe for him. You've heard the rumors. Dark work is afoot. First Quirrell, then the Chamber. You-Know-Who is out there trying to return and finished what he started. I can feel it."

"Voldemort is dead, Padfoot. You and I both know this."

"No. No, we don't. Not for certain." Sirius leaned back. The gentle wave of his chocolate dark hair teased the hairs raised at the back of his neck. Sweat dampened their ends. "We don't know what happened that night, or how Harry survived. No one has ever done it before. Something else happened in Godric's Hollow all those years ago, something that isn't normal. I can't say without a doubt, but I know there is more to it than it seems. Voldemort is out there, alive, somehow someway. He lives. He's possessed a professor and opened the Chamber of Secrets."

Their voices were low, lower than the crackling of the fire. Even though neither boy was awake yet, they couldn't trust the silence.

Remus sipped from his morning glass of pumpkin juice. The sweetness trickled down his thirsty throat, appeasing the growing dryness spawning there.

Times had been rough when Harry was born, and Voldemort was at large. The world turned on it's head at the things the dark wizard did. Disappearances of witches and wizards. Deaths, even. The Ministry was shaken to its very foundation as departments fell in disarray, the demand of work rose and the threat of exposure to the Muggle world was prioritized.

Friends couldn't trust each other in fear of who was aligned with darkness. Many who seemed so pleasant and strong manipulated into pawns in a grand scheme. Voldemort gained followers in all areas of the magical community.

It was a dark time to live in. It was even worse to fight through. Remus and Sirius were apart of an anti-Voldemort group called The Order of the Phoenix. Brave witches and wizards joined their ranks to defeat Voldemort, protect Muggleborns, and establish a rightful rule in Britain.

"The Chamber was not orchestrated by Voldemort," Remus countered. "Draco told us it was done by Lucius. Not Voldemort."

Sirius settled back in thought. "Yes. Lucius."

The name burned his tongue as he said it. The arrogant prat who married his cousin, Narcissa Black.

"Don't even get me started on the man," he snarled.

Distaste for the man came from their first encounters with him during the First Wizarding War. He was a popular known Death Eater; he did not hide the fact. His love for power was more notable than Voldemort's himself. There was nothing Lucius wouldn't do for power over another.

It came as a great shock to the entire community when Lucius was not thrown into Azkaban with all the others of the followers. The sharp wit and golden tongue provided him escape with an excuse almost laughable. He declared to be under an Imperious curse that forced him to commit all the unspeakable acts he'd done.

How the Wizengamot bought the story was beyond Sirius. It was utter hogwash.

"He is Draco's father," his friend added quietly.

Sirius furrowed his brow, dropping his fork to the table with a loud clatter. "Don't tell me that matters. The man is a tyrant. Even over his own son, his flesh and blood and bone. The poor boy can't stand to be there for more than half a day before he sneaks over here."

It was no secret to them why Draco came to them. Sirius saw the same look in Draco's eyes as he saw in the mirror as a child before he ran away to the Potter's for shelter. Desperation and despair.

Draco feared him. And with what Sirius and Remus knew of the elder Malfoy, he was right to fear.

"We will have to deal with him eventually," Remus stated between bites. "It will not remain secret for long that Draco spends his days here. What will come then?"

A long groan erupted from Sirius' chest. His thoughts swam with confliction. The future of what becomes of Draco would be greatly influenced by his own action, Sirius knew that. It was obvious the boy had no intention of abandoning his friends. The fear of first year washed off of him. Draco openly associated with his best friend, Sirius had heard, and became an equal ally amongst them.

There was no doubt just who Draco would choose when the time came.

However, Lucius was not a man to abandon anything. His continued support of the Dark Lord for over eleven years after Voldemort's death gave light to that.

"It is Draco's choice. We must not force him to choose. Only when it cannot be avoided any longer will we give that to him. We give him home and our trust and be there for him when the time comes."

Thundering steps shook the boards overhead. Bits of dust from between the floorboards snowed down over the table, spoiling the long-cold breakfast plates and soiling Sirius' mood even farther.

"Kreacher!" He called.

A napkin wiped Remus' face. It swept off bits of dust from his shoulders, the crushed velvet clung to the rubbish. The napkin fluttered the particles off into the air once more, satisfied for the floor to be coated rather than the man.

"You underestimate the man, Sirius. He will not give up his only son so quietly."

A crack erupted through the air, a humbled old elf bowed at Sirius' side. He only raised when the sounds of laughter tromping down the staircase pushed a grimace. It would be an entire day of scrubbing black scuffs off the wood.

The elf turned to his master. "Yes, Master Black?"

"I want these ceilings dusted and cleaned." Sirius pushed his hand across the surface of the table, presented the evidence of his displeasure to the lowly, often grouchy house elf. "This is unacceptable."

Kreacher disliked being corrected. An elderly house elf was supposed to know how to please the masters of their house thus avoiding a verbal lashing. It was an awful day to be humbled.

Long pointed ears drooped as he hung his head low, certain to put extra effort into the chore that was so badly avoided.

Draco and Harry entered the kitchen just as the elf vanished away with a promise to return with their breakfast. It was all of one second before two warm plates steamed upon the table in their chosen seats. They fought against their chairs as they hurried to sit down.

Maple sausage links, fluffy scrambled eggs, perfectly crisped toast with butter, large goblets filled with thick fresh milk. Growls came from their stomachs in the heavenly scent of such food.

"Thank you, Kreacher. It looks delicious."

The elf nodded. "Kreacher put extra cheese in the eggs just as you like, Mister Draco."

Draco spied the orange goodness through the light of the egg. Cheddar. His favorite cheese, much to his mother's horror since it was a 'common' cheese. Much too common for the mouth of a Malfoy.

"Good man, Kreacher. Thank you."

The two dug in without further invitation. Harry scurried around his plate, taking heaping mouthfuls of each piece as though it belonged together in one bite. A bit of butter smeared across his cheek.

Draco, raised with the highest paid tutors Britain ever saw, held himself with a bit more restraint as he ate. It was improper for a Malfoy to seem needy of anything, including food. Utensils were to be kept low, set properly along the table. A napkin in the lap at all times, mostly to save the expensive robes below. An elbow was never placed upon a table. Never.

The table was quiet as they ate. Remus read the paper. Sirius was lost in quiet contemplation as he stared at the corner of the room where a frame laid below a white sheet. Words were mumbled, whispered under breath, but no one heard them.

"Your friend Ron sent us a card," Sirius said after plates were cleared away and tea was served. "Looks like he's having fun."

Harry lifted the picture, adjusted his glasses slightly and leaned closer for his friend to see. They both peered down at the picture. Harry, with a soft smile, and Draco with a blank stare. He wasn't often expressive, Sirius found. Draco preferred to leave his feelings to himself.

That was all fine and dandy when Sirius didn't have to listen to them until the early hours of the morning.

"Wow. He's so lucky to see the pyramids. Look how huge they are." Harry gaped at the picture in awe.

Attention was brought to Draco.

"And what do you think, Draco?" Sirius asked.

The boy shrugged. "Don't think I'd care much for Egypt."

"Why not?"

"I prefer somewhere without sand in my eyes. Italy is very nice. Germany, perhaps, too."

The sound of Germany sparked something inside Harry. He straightened suddenly, an excited look on his face.

"What about Bulgaria?" He asked quickly. "They've got the best Quidditch team there."

Draco's eyes widened, too. "Yes! Bulgaria is awesome. We should go sometime."

"Hey, yeah. Great idea. We could take Ron, too," Harry said. "He'd love to go."

"Hermione, too, then."

Just the topic Sirius wanted to discuss since it was something he listened to the night before. Draco and Harry talking about Hermione Granger through the night. He guessed one of them had a crush. By the way Harry looked at Draco and Draco looked away, it seemed to be the Slytherin had the crush.

Sirius cleared his throat. "Why Hermione? I didn't think you got on with her."

Draco shot a look toward Harry who just shrugged.

"Um, she's alright," he said carefully. "She wouldn't like it if we left her out."

"Really?" Sirius forced his tone to sound innocent.

A curious look came after the paper lowered in Remus' hands. He recognized the change. There was a slight narrowing and shake of the head. But the temptation was just too great to turn away. Sirius just had to pursue.

Considered it revenge for the entire night of lost sleep.

"She is my best friend," Harry stated. "We do everything together."

He felt the boy squirm under his sight as Sirius stared into pale gray eyes.

"It isn't fair to force your friends to be near one another when they aren't friendly. We could always take her some other time when Draco isn't with us." Sirius loved the way panic set in across the young boy's features. "I mean, if Draco doesn't like her, he doesn't like her."

Draco replied with haste. "I like her. I do. She can come."

Just as the words came out of his mouth, Draco realized how desperate they sounded. He tried to back pedal, perhaps erase the moment from ever happening, but it had already. Already the look of amusement was on Sirius' face. The paper blocked Remus from sight. He hoped that he wasn't pleased, too.

It was all so humiliating. He turned bright red.

"Or, I mean, whatever. She can come if she wants." His tone was far from cool.

Sirius smirked. "I detect a bit of something. What is it? Oh, what do we call that? Hmm. Yes. I remember now. Affection."

All the air sucked out of the room. Throat turned dry, so did his nose. It all worked against him as he tried to calm the panic in his stomach. Their eyes were on him. He felt their knowing looks.

Even Potter at his side looked a bit surprised.

"What? No. No. That's crazy."

Harry shook his head. "I'm not angry."

"Angry about what?" Draco straightened his spine, lifting his chin high. "There's nothing. Absolutely nothing. No way. Granger? Come on."

Table of his three most trusted friends and it felt incredibly uncomfortable to have his feelings for Hermione blasted all over for the whole world to hear.

Sirius chuckled slightly easing against the back of his chair in a relaxed manner. "If you could see your face right now…Oh, son. I think both of you need to hear this speech since it is getting to be that age."

Draco and Harry cringed. A 'boy and girl' talk was not breakfast table discussion. It was awkward.

"Please, Sirius. No." Harry begged. "I just ate."

"We already know about that stuff," Draco proclaimed.

Sirius arched a wily brow. "Really? Then tell me what you know about _girls_."

Both friends froze in place. Say it? Out loud? A hot blush came to both their faces when they thought of relaying all the information they knew, especially things they learned from older boys at school. Particularly what the Weasley twins taught them about 'self-stimulation'. Sweat bubbled up just as Draco thought of all things, not even said.

"Uh," Draco started. He didn't want to seem scared. He wasn't scared.

Another silence came, even worst than the first. Neither wanted to say anything and yet the quiet made them feel compelled to speak if they wanted the tension to go away.

"Please don't make us say it," Harry finally relayed.

Remus chuckled loudly from behind his paper. "If you can't say it, you better not do it."

That seemed more of a challenge than anything.

"Fine. Girls and guys get together and kiss and stuff when they like each other," Draco stated evenly, though his hands trembled. "They sometimes do more."

"More?" Sirius questioned.

Draco swallowed thickly. "Yeah. You know. They…they have sex."

Harry choked as the word fell to the quiet. Breaths literally refused to come.

"You two have a lot to learn if that's all you can say without fainting," Sirius stated with a smile. He lifted his goblet, ever so slowly drinking the contents as the two boys sat in their chairs. Squirming. "There is much more to courting than just physical things. Like kissing."

"Courting?" Harry scrunched his nose.

"Dating, Potter. He means dating."

Harry nodded. He'd heard of that at least.

"Yes, well. Dating. Courting. Whatever you call it. It requires much more than wanting to _kiss_ another person. See, whoever is the object of your affections deserved to be treated respectfully. That means only doing things as comfortable as you both see fit. You won't always see eye to eye on that, but you cannot surpass the other's comfortable level. That's selfish."

When he imagined all the circumstances where such advise would apply, all Draco pictured was Hermione. She was the one whom he saw by his side, in the library, opening a gift at Christmas, cheering him on during Quidditch.

Her limits.

He also understood the comfort levels that Sirius spoke of. Draco himself was slow. It took him longer than he liked to admit to touch somebody, or gaze at them with need. Bearing himself so clearly was unnatural to him. Clear cut emotions were badly received at Malfoy Manor. Neither of his parents openly accepted any declaration of one's feelings that went against dignity.

To love someone so unafraid was a new concept he disliked.

"So, just don't kiss a girl when she doesn't want to. That's easy enough." Harry seemed pleased. Dating wasn't so hard when it got down to the details. All that could be cleared up with a simple conversation.

Pages of The Daily Prophet crinkled in Remus' fists as he peered over the top.

"That's what you heard?" Remus asked.

"It's what he said, isn't it, Sirius?" Harry looked to him for help. "Only kiss a girl when she wants to."

Sirius took pity on the young boy. It was a whole new world to the pair of inexperienced boys. Soon, hormones would run rampant and not a thing could be beaten in through their skulls. The conversation had to happen.

"Well, son, that is a big part of it," he said softly. "You should respect boundaries, the both of you. But, there is much that comes before that."

It took a long while to explain courting to Draco and Harry, who looked more and more confused by the minute. Their eyes narrowed when they thought of Sirius' words suggestion of waiting to pursue anyone unless they were ready to commit themselves to a person, controlling themselves and respecting another individual as well. It was grossly implied that he meant cheating.

Cheating was a horrid stain on anyone. In the magical community, it was almost as worse as a dark mark.

There was the discussion where they learned how to properly treat a person they liked, to begin courting. It was very formal. Too formal even for Draco's taste. But Sirius was from a different time. Students snogged within a week if they liked each other. That was seen through the halls with no surprise.

Of course, the conversation was given a short explanation on contraceptives. They both turned away from him in embarrassment when Sirius spoke so clearly of what contraceptives were for. He nearly burst with laughter. Their poor faces were burned red completely.

"Now, I don't have to worry about you, Draco. Hermione is a good witch. She's too stubborn for you to get your way all the time." The more Sirius thought of the pair, the more perfect they seemed. "That will do loads for you. Keep you behaving right."

"That doesn't sound beneficial to me," Draco grumbled.

"Trust me. It is."

Harry looked a little hurt at Sirius' praise of Draco. He turned to his adopted son with a smile.

"Harry, whenever you find the one for you, make sure she's grounded enough to keep you out of trouble," he said. "No Gryffindors. If you know what's good for you. You're too much a Gryffindor to be with another one. Merlin knows what kind of trouble the pair of you will find."

"Funny," piped in Remus. "I would say the opposite."

Sirius straightened. "Oh, you would, would you?"

"James and Lily were a good fit. Both were a better fit in Gryffindor than anywhere."

James Potter and Lily Evans were the true aspects of Gryffindor that Godric meant to emulate in his house. Brave, courageous, loyal, a fighter. Although Lily and James may have been different people, they fit perfectly together. Each had a strong piece of Gryffindor apart of them.

"Right. Well perhaps we should test it. Harry, boy, bring a girl back from each house and we'll decide who's a better fit."

There was an exciting thought. Draco glanced at Harry with a teasing brow. Who could they bring?

Remus turned back to his paper. "No, Padfoot."

"Fine. Explain them to us then. We can make judgements from that."

A shot of lazy disbelief came from Remus. "You can't ask that. It isn't our business who he likes."

"Oh, you're no fun." Sirius swatted the air in his friend's direction.

"And you have no boundaries."


	8. Chapter 8

Diagon Alley

"She bought the demon cat," Harry snickered as Hermione boasted the fuzzy orange creature in a crate.

The matron of the Weasley family, Molly, peered into the cage with a smile and small congratulations which was followed by a question from Arthur regarding Muggles and their uses for their pets. Hermione was patient, answering it to appease the man. Though she was grateful that Arthur Weasley asked her a variety of questions, it made her feel more of a specimen to the man who was so fascinated by every aspect of a Muggle's life.

She politely smiled and set the familiar near her other things.

Ron rolled his eyes. "So much for a useful animal. Thought she'd get an owl because it's more practical."

"She did say that's what she wanted," Harry said.

They'd all met at Diagon Alley for a day of school supply shopping and catching up. The Weasley's just got back from their summer vacation all sunburnt and dry. The twins were adorned in their newly crafted robes from the linens and silks of the Egyptians wizards where both those fabrics were widely available at a much lower cost.

Notable freckles spread across Ron and Ginny's noses and cheeks, all from the extended sun exposure. Ron complained of the burn. Pain potions only relieved the stinging burn, not the discomfort still etched in the skin.

Hermione brought a gift for them from Muggle London: extra strength aloe lotion. At first, Ginny was hesitant to use it. The green goo smelled awful. Her eyes watered as the slime was smeared on her brother's arms without question.

Ginny gawked. Her brother noticed.

"What?" Ron asked. "Go on, Ginny. It's Hermione. She wouldn't give anything that wasn't helpful. Now put it on. The pain is already gone."

His younger sister fingered the unusual container. "I think I'll just wait for it to go away."

She made sure to lower her voice when Hermione marched by and displayed her new pet proudly.

"I named him Crookshanks," she announced. Her smile spread cheek to cheek in delight. "The owner of the store said he'd been in there the longest. The poor thing was so rattled. He attacked Ronald because he was stressed. Pet shops can be extra stressing for an animal."

Harry resisted the urge to smile. "Obviously my first choice."

"Shut up, Harry." Ron offered peace to the animal. He wiggled his finger between the metal bars of the crate where the fur ball laid. "We're friends now, see? He likes me."

Hermione nibbled on her bottom lip. Crookshanks was actually hissing and batting her friend's finger away yet the smile on Ron's face was too cheerful to crush. He was so soft hearted when it came to animals. Even his blasted owl who crashed into everything, got lost constantly, and demanded the prime cuts of meat off their plates, Ron boasted about the animal like he was the perfect pet to own.

At least he didn't hold the grudge too seriously. Crookshanks would warm up to him.

Harry stepped closer, peered into the cage and winced. "It seems angry. Is that how cats are always?"

"You don't know about cats?" Hermione asked, clearly surprised.

"No. Sirius doesn't care for them. We can't even stop and look at them in shop windows. Just grumbles about their smell."

"That's not right, mate," Ron replied sadly. "Cats are great. Not as good as rats. I've wanted one for years. Did you know they can eat anything? Wood. Bricks. Even pipes!"

Two faces popped nearer, identical looks of mischief. "Should name him Ron," one said.

"He eats everything, too." The other twin snickered.

"He ate that old smelly fish. What was it called? Feseekha."

It was a clear sparking point for the young red head. Ron turned defensive quickly, putting his hands on his hips and wrinkling his nose.

"I was hungry, and the man said it was yummy," he reasoned. "How was I to know they left it out in the sun?"

Harry glanced over surprised. "In the sun?"

"How did it taste, Ron?" Hermione asked, sensing the tension between the younger of the Weasley brothers. The twins loved to tease Ron to anger. It made him make a fool of himself more than once. "It couldn't be that bad if they still eat it."

Fred and George looked over at her with disbelief. "They leave it out."

"In the sun!" The other twin added.

"It was very good," Ron said. "Different. But we weren't in England so what you'd expect? Can't have beans on toast everywhere."

Hermione smiled. There was Ron. The loveable, easy going friend they all knew.

Except when he wasn't. Then it was look out.

The group settled in at the Leaky Cauldron where all of Britain's magical community seemed to be. Tables were filled. A steady roar of voices filled all their ears as they huddled closer, trying to hear over the other patrons. Mugs and mugs of butterbeer moved all over the restaurant, back to the long walls. A burly wizard, a dense black beard covered his chest, guzzled them like goblets of pumpkin juice. Harry and Ron watched with fascination.

He gulped half the mug in one swallow. The amber liquid flowed easily down his throat, only disrupted by the closure of his lips.

Harry elbowed Ron's ribs. "Think we can do that?"

Despite the confidence of his friend, Ron was less certain. "Oh. I don't know, Harry. You know me. I choked on that fizzy pop, you know? Where all those bubbles came out of my nose? I don't try that stuff anymore. Fred and George still tease me about that and it was years ago."

"We should try it," Harry said.

"What? That's crazy."

They turned to order a mug of their own when Hermione materialized in front of them clad in a lemon-yellow jumper she brought from home. Her arms were crossed around her chest, lips pursed together in a thin line.

"I know that look. What are you two plotting?" It was not the playful Hermione; it was the mother hen. "Can't you just give it a rest for one year? Your plotting only turns to trouble."

"It does not," they cried in unison.

The volume was drowned out by the roaring laughter of a nearby table, a chittering of mail owls overhead as they swooped with marked envelopes in hand. Over the noise came a more distinct noise. It was the voice of a popular Ravenclaw a few years older.

He was dressed in fresh wizarding robes, shined leather boots, stiff blue collar and brilliant white Puka shell necklace. Dense black waves of hair gave a round shape to his overwise lean face. His eyes matched a shade of grass that grew on the grounds of Hogwarts: light green on the edge of being golden yellow.

In his hand was the new broom, the Firebolt.

Ron pinched the back sleeve of Harry's shirt. "Tha – th – th – that's Finley Mina."

Finley Mina, the coolest guy in the school. Everyone loved him. The professors, the students, the Ministry. He was known best for his epic feat of solving an ancient riddle never solved before, surpassing even the best of witches and wizards that ever lived.

There weren't many wizards that Harry Potter, the Boy Who Lived, idolized, but Finley Mina was on the list.

"He's got the new Firebolt." Harry sighed. "If he played Quidditch, he'd be the fastest player."

"Why don't you get a Firebolt, too? Just so you can go talk to him about it," Ron suggested with an excited shine to his eyes.

It was safe to say that neither had approached the Finley Mina. Harry's head turned into a blender where sentences turned to nothing but a mess turning, "Hey I'm Harry Potter" to "My, uh, my divinations on fire. Got to get a pixie for it."

He was still embarrassed for that.

Harry shrugged. "I don't like using my parent's money like that. Sirius said they were very mindful, sparing every Knut for their vault. Seems wasteful to spend it on a broom when I've got my own. A nice one, too."

It was true. He had a nice broom. It was far nicer than the school brooms that the Weasley's had to use, and even nicer than most of the other models. Other than Malfoy's that was. His father provided the entire Slytherin Quidditch team with brand new brooms last term. It gave them an unfair advantage, but it wasn't against school rules so there was nothing to be done.

Still, he disliked losing to Malfoy. Malfoy won at everything. He was driven to be the best.

Harry was the opposite. It felt like he fell into success by chance. Defeating the basalisk felt an entire farce, Quirrell was just by happenstance. None of his accomplishments were a part of his talent. He held much more than defeating whatever dark thing that Voldemort or a Death Eater was.

"I'd do it. I would. If I had the money, that is," Ron said.

His stare was still directed at Finley Mina. Just something about the wizard in the pub with his buddies all around looking straight out of _Witch Weekly_ , broom in hand made Finley the biggest celebrity either boy could think of.

"Think we should grow our hair long like his?" A finger ran through the unruly black locks. "I think I can pull it off. We look similar, don't we?"

"Um." Ron took a bite of a crispy brown toast. It crunched as he smacked his lips together. "Might help, won't it?"

A barking voice called to them both. They rejoined the table of Weasley's as food was ordered to the barman. Hermione, who was deeply interested in her book, raised her eyes away from the pages for a split second, eyes widened, she caught Harry's eye.

She kept motioned oddly. He crinkled his brow. The witch looked positively possessed the way she'd through her chin up high, over and over again.

"Are you alright?" He finally asked, concerned she'd need a counter-spell of which she did not know.

Hermione was less impressed. Her brown eyes rolled drastically, showing the bright white to light. "Look behind you. Through the window."

The strange request was revealed what her problem was.

Two figures stalked through the alley behind the Leaky Cauldron. One was very tall, stiff as he moved through the crowd in dense black robes. White-blonde hair hanged down his back over the short ebony fur of the hood. A walking cane in one hand.

The other beside was much shorter and relaxed as he walked. Still, he was adorned in clothes of black without wizard robes. He wore a simple pair of trousers, black shirt with silver cufflinks. Hair, cut much shorter than the elder, shined in the high afternoon light.

He seemed to be looking through the crowd as it parted around them.

"Malfoy," Harry breathed.

He'd returned home a week before term started so that his mother could assist him with school shopping. Apparently, the elder Malfoy meant to accompany him instead.

"He looks agitated," Hermione said softly.

The Weasley family and Malfoy family weren't known as friends. Things were tense between the families so much that the children avoided mentioning Draco Malfoy if they could help it. Of course, with a rat in the family like Percy, it was still mentioned enough to their parent's disgust.

Harry agreed with Hermione. His friend walked with discomfort alongside his father. "That's because of Lucius."

"Is he truly that awful to Draco?" She whispered. "It is his son. Doesn't seem right, does it?"

"The things he does to Malfoy are not right anywhere."

He hated to think of the suffering Malfoy endured at the hands of his father. Malfoy refused to speak of it much, but there was much that Harry knew for a fact.

Malfoy held many scars from his father's parenting. Many he would have for life.

It seemed that was Lucius Malfoy's goal.

His friend frowned as she regarded her friend down the alley. "Is it legal? Could he do something, turn in his father for abuse, neglect, anything?"

"He wouldn't," Harry answered sadly. "Malfoy won't tell anyone what happens. He doesn't like to. I once asked, and he hexed me."

Hermione gasped. He'd forgotten just who he spoke to. She alerted to everything that wasn't fair, no matter who it was toward.

"I was fine. He didn't hurt me. He'd never do that, Hermione. As scary as he seems, he isn't as mean as that. It is just the way he has to be, so that Lucius doesn't know when he's hurt him."

There was a small pause in the conversation. He could see the thoughts working through her mind, lips biting down on themselves to refrain herself from saying something. A great difficulty.

Harry sighed. "What is it?"

"Nothing."

"Just tell me, Mione. What do you want to say?"

Her shoulders raised as she wiggled her bottom against her chair. Her hands carefully placed the book on top the table, only a finger keeping her place between the tea-colored pages.

There was indecision across her face as she tried to soundlessly scoot her chair closer to his. It wasn't achieved. The second she pushed her chair to the side, all eyes of Weasley table fixed on her with question. She blushed heavily.

Noise of the Leaky Cauldron died. It seemed a spotlight was upon her red face as she tried to brush off the attention by ducking her face away behind a hand.

Her eyes called to him to do something. What? He hadn't a clue.

Seven sets of eyes watched the two friends at the end of the table with interest. They weren't straying.

"Hermione tell me more about that book you have," Harry announced loudly. Louder than necessary. The entire pub turned to their table in question of the disruption. Now, the attention was upon him.

However, the mention of Hermione and a book encouraged the Weasley's to turn back to their conversation. Percy boasted over his new position at Hogwarts as Head Boy.

Sound raised throughout the Leaky, and it allowed Hermione and Harry to breath without tension.

"Thank you," she mumbled as she flipped her book open.

She dragged a finger over a few sentences as he pretended to focus on what she explained.

"So, what about Malfoy?" Harry questioned.

A second later her eyes snapped to his. The burn of her blush was gone.

"I haven't heard from him. Not once. All summer," she explained softly. Every once in a while, she'd glance at the rest of the table. "I just wondered if he mentioned me at all while he stayed with you"

The topic of Hermione Granger had been one of the most uncomfortable conversations that Harry ever had with Malfoy. It still sent shudders up his spine.

"I can't recall," Harry lied. "We talked so much this summer about things. Quidditch. Hogwarts. Books."

Her eyes narrowed. He'd steered into uncharted territory.

"What books?"

"Why books about Quidditch, of course. What other kind of books would Malfoy and I discuss?" There was a single book he and Malfoy memorized first year. It talked about the beginnings of Quidditch, how the game came to be, ancient playing techniques and equipment, and noted players. "It talked about how brooms affected the game. Would you like to hear about it?"

Her eyes widened in horror. "Oh. No, thank you. I appreciate it, though."

"Are you sure? It's fascinating."

"Positive."

Crisis avoided, the pair rejoined the group of Weasleys as they all tucked in to their meals. It wasn't long before the entire was laughing together. Fred and George turned their attention to poking fun at Percy, who took his own time to correct and chastise the pair. Molly and Arthur ignored the havoc their two created.

Ginny sat quietly beside Harry. She'd track him through the corner of her eye as Hermione and him exchanged looks. A bit of displeasure crossed the young girl's lips.

Ron and Hermione shoved their seats together, talking about what they had planned for the year. They'd received their lesson plan from McGonagall. They shared only a few classes. Ronald had opted for a few easier classes whereas Hermione took all available classes. It was a fully filled schedule.

"How are you even going to find time for the library?" Ron gaped at the length of her schedule. "You'll never see any of Harry's games. Or Malfoy's for that matter."

"Why would I need to do that when you come and recount every second for me anyhow?" She smirked. "Honestly, Ronald. Don't worry. This will be challenging, but it'll be great. Imagine how much I'll be learning."

That was not his concern. "But what about fun? You haven't got that planned in on there, have you? See? No. You won't have any room for a bit of fun."

His version of fun, she assumed, was playing wizards chess and flying on a broom or staring at the Ravenclaw table as he drooled over Finley Mina. It was not what she wanted to fill up her year with.

"I'll have much fun in these classes. Plus, there is always my trips to Hogsmeade that will be fun," she commented.

It was the first year they were permitted to travel to a nearby town of Hogsmeade to venture through various shops and outings. There was the Shrieking Shack. It was the most haunted building in all of Britain. She intended seeing it. It was something that Draco was sure to enjoy, too, since he was attracted to many dark things.

Ron considered it for a moment. "All the work you'll have from these classes. Divination alone. You won't have time to go to Hogsmeade."

The list in his hand seemed to grow the more he looked at it.

"Ancient Runes? Are you mental? That class is nothing but work."

She bit back a smile. It was a class that her and Draco decided to attend together. Both of them were intrigued by the idea, but it was mostly so that they could compete to see with whom was better at translating.

Draco boasted about prior knowledge. It frightened her enough to read through the entire textbook before the start of term. That was the one she collected weeks before when she came for a visit to Grimmauld Place.

"What is wrong with a bit of writing? It is a simple idea. Translate one thing to another," Hermione stated. "You'd be right to take it, as well."

"Now you really are mental," he groaned. He handed back the list, ready to forget about classes until it was time.

The rest of the time was spent regaling the tales of Egypt. The Weasleys fared quite many things on their vacation, including a nasty sand storm that nearly barricaded them in the inn.

By the end of the day, everyone was ready for the start of term with their friends all returned home and safe.


	9. Chapter 9

**A/N: So sorry for the extended absence. I moved across like four states so it's been pretty hectic lately. Hope this lives up to the anticipation!**

Hogwarts Express – Third Year

"Draco, are you alright?"

Her voice awoke him from his daze. It'd only been a half hour since they'd departed from London. The express still buzzed with excitement as students hopped car to car, intent to reveal every second of their summer to their friends as they munched on sweets from the cart.

Draco had spent the last five nights of his summer break locked in his room. His father was irate to find that he'd escaped the week before and didn't return home. The man pretended to worry about Draco's safety. It was very 'unbecoming' to run away like a spoiled child.

No, he knew his father wanted to punish him regardless, so Draco remained quiet as his father raged on which only fueled the anger farther.

The bruises still ached from where he hit his bedroom wall. Curtesy of Lucius Malfoy.

"I'm fine," he mumbled.

Over the summer, Draco Malfoy had grown leaner, more defined features with sharp gray eyes and an even sharper tongue. His hands were lengthy and nimble. With purpose, he moved. Every part of him so deliberate. He noticed the gazes as witches fawned over his newly developed body with doe eyes. Still, he remained casual.

Until he saw her. Hermione Granger. She was all he could think about. Whenever she came around, his calm fell into a bumbling, weak kneed first year that yearned for her attention. He'd pictured seeing her again over and over so much that it blurred with the reality of his agony as he waited on the platform for only a minute before boarding, not bothering to look for his friends. He was too exhausted. Drained.

Still her presence wasn't something he could ignore. Over every sound faint or faraway, he heard her breath the loudest. He'd become attuned to it. He only sensed her mood by the way it sounded to his ears.

When she was joyous, for example, her breath quickened like she couldn't get enough air. It was a result of laughing, he guessed. But when she was content, truly and completely, it was slow. Steady. Sadness was marked with extendedly long breaths as she fought back tears.

Now, she was content with a hint of joyous at the reunion of her friends. It was enough to allow him to focus on himself. The welts, the pain.

They swayed in their seats as the train plowed through long grasses of the English countryside north to Scotland. Toward Hogwarts. The home he couldn't wait to see.

Hermione twisted her hands in her lap. "Oh. You seem quiet. I thought something might be wrong."

"I said I'm fine." He scowled through his pain.

A sudden thrash of the train threw Draco back in his seat. He sucked through his teeth as deep pain surfaced once more. His hands clutched his chest as he inhaled and exhaled deliberately with the only chance to fight the pain.

Harry and Hermione met their gazes, equally concerned.

Malfoy kept his eyes closed until the pain subsided. It was a minute.

"Ronald, let's go find the trolley."

Ron had himself half way worked through a box of every flavor beans. "Again?"

"Got a craving for some pumpkin patsies, I have." Hermione flicked a Galleon between her fingers. "Come with me and I'll buy you something."

"You got it!"

They left the compartment on a quiet search as Harry and Draco fell into complete silence. It was blissful. Until, they heard the girls in the next compartment chittering. About boys. Draco rolled his eyes in pure agony. One decidedly mentioned his name. The entire compartment squealed so loud that the boys plugged their ears until it subsided.

Harry glanced over with a bemused smile. "Got to get used to that, don't you?"

"The joy," Draco replied blandly.

He hated girls like that.

"Can't be all that bad," he said. "At least you've got the pick of the school."

His back hurt and he was in no mood for conversation, still Draco couldn't help but look over at his friend. "I think I'll stick with the one I've got."

"You know, speaking of Hermione - ."

"Yes, Potter. I'll apologize the second she gets back," Draco replied through gritted teeth.

The train still rattled unevenly. His bruises touched the surface of his seat more than once.

His friend was taken aback. "Oh. I was just going to say that you ought to tell her. You know."

"Tell her?"

Harry rolled his eyes. "Why you're always grouchy. Why you're in pain right now. She's got to know something's up. She is Hermione Granger…Too bad she isn't blind and oblivious."

"I am not going to tell Granger. Get it out of your head. I don't want her pity."

The chattering of the next cabin rose again. One squeal too much.

Draco turned and pounded his fist against the wall. "Keep it down in there! Some of us like our eardrums intact!"

There was a hushed silence that fell through the girls. Harry almost felt bad for them. No doubt they were younger years than them. Probably second years. Ones that thought Draco was 'cute' rather than the moody git he was the rest of the time.

Harry was gifted enough to know how to handle his friend when he got that way. Lots of practice.

"I was just saying that she probably won't appreciate the secret if you ever want to try something with her," he stated with a shrug. It was much effort that kept his face in feign innocence. "You know how she is about secrets. Hates them."

Draco swallowed. "She does?"

Girls disliked secrets. Sirius made a point to say that during their talk. What's more is that the Weasley twins warned them against a similar mistake if they wished not to be hexed by a lovely witch under a different impression of a relationship.

He should have known; he was the same way.

If Hermione had a secret boyfriend, he'd want to know. If she was secretly a vampire, he'd want to know. If she was being beaten by her father, Draco would _need_ to know so he might curse the pants off of the man. There was no question.

"Yeah, she does. But don't worry about it. I'm sure she'll go easy on you," Harry commented offhand. "She didn't hex you once last year. That's an improvement."

Now Draco was very worried. She was a Gryffindor with a temper. Hexing was her second nature when pushed far enough. When those nostrils flared, lips set in a thin line, she was bound to do something.

Harry watched his friend shift in discomfort and adjust his Slytherin tie with an inaudible gulp.

For once, Draco wasn't doing the manipulating.

"Right," Draco said softly.

The Slytherin adjusted himself in the seat, mood seemingly gone, and awaited the return of Hermione and Ron.

It took a while. An entire ten minutes? Harry glanced down at his watch. Hermione thought Malfoy and him would talk that long? How much did she think needed to be said?

There wasn't much to do. He hadn't brought a thing with him on the train to do. Usually between Ron and Hermione (always chastising him for not keeping up on their school work over the break) there was never a need to bring entertainment.

His companion noted the extended absence.

"Did they find the trolley or just walk to Hogwarts on their own?" It was subtle, but Harry recognized the concern under the tone. He knew it was there because he had it too.

"I don't know," Harry answered. "Maybe they ran into someone."

"Good or bad?"

The foursome was often taunted by the Slytherin's. Crabbe and Goyle, both thick headed dummies, were particularly gifted in their bullying. They especially hated Hermione.

As she walked by, they would whisper 'Mudblood' just loud enough for her to catch.

He trusted Hermione to handle herself. As for Ron, he wasn't sure. When in defense, he was a wild card much like himself only Ron's tunnel vision distracted him from his environment. Particularly other duelers. Crabbe and Goyle always knew when to strike, just how to wiggle underneath their flesh in a way of some retaliation.

Harry turned to Draco quickly, "Perhaps we should go look for them."

The blonde started to rise but stopped when his eyes landed on the train compartment door.

"No need." Draco sighed.

Hermione and Ron were outside the door sharing a few happy smiles as Remus Lupin trekked up behind. He was newly scarred. The full moon had been two days ago.

Remus entered the car along with his friends, detailing an encounter with a Dementor and how to defeat one. It was very clear that he was skilled in the area. He didn't even glance Harry's way until he'd stopped talking and Hermine was settled in her seat.

"Look who we found," she commented with a small grin.

"Hello, boys." Remus greeted, though he recognized their notice of the fresh scar across his neck. He flipped of the collar of his robe and continued. "It seems that I did not stay on the platform as you thought."

What did that mean? A side glance at Malfoy showed that he knew what it meant. Harry kicked himself for not understanding more. Remus mentioned nothing of needing to visit Hogwarts and was fully able to visit quicker than by train. Floo was easily done.

"I don't understand. Why are you here?" Harry asked, unable to withhold his confusion.

"He's our new professor, Harry."

Hermione seemed pleased at the idea. She loved professors, no matter who they were. The dolt Lockhart captured her interest with a single wink.

Harry crinkled his forehead. "New professor for what? I didn't think we needed one."

Ron shoved Harry lightly. "Defense Against the Dark Arts."

"But that's Lockhart's - ."

"Don't tell me you've forgotten Lockhart. He's a loony, Potter. He can't very well teach spells if he can't remember his own name now, can he?"

"Not since he tried to wipe our memories," Ron chuckled. "Lucky he grabbed my rotten wand if the job or he might've."

"Honestly, Ronald. It's not funny."

The red head put his hands on his knees. "Hey. How come you didn't yell at Malfoy?"

He was right. She'd skimmed over Draco's snide comment and corrected Ron for his. The thready pulse fixed between Draco's skin hopped up as he focused on the fact.

There was the fact, though, that perhaps she didn't correct him because he wasn't one of hers to corral. At Hogwarts she made it a point to mother the two troublemakers with her (almost) undivided attention. Not that it harmed them. Potter was highly impulsive, and Ron was just, Ron.

Draco, on the other hand, was used to caring for himself. He held himself to higher standards than the average peer at school. It was of the utmost importance to uphold an amount of respect. He was a Malfoy after all. Despite his wildly liberal views compared to his father, Draco still believed in his formal upbringing. It was all he knew.

"Because he wasn't laughing." She rubbed her temples with a sigh. "The man lost his entire memory, Ron. Can you imagine what that's like?"

"You're only mad that he doesn't remember you so now he can't tell you his secrets." Ron pointed a finger at her.

Hermione's mouth dropped open. "You're impossible."

The train car turned tense; Remus, Harry and Draco shifted gazes around, sure to avoid the two arguing. For once, it wasn't Draco fighting with the stubborn witch.

Suddenly her eyes were fixed on him. His eyes snapped open, only now just aware he'd been staring at her. The round curves of her nostrils were a bright red. Frizz of her curls was doubled.

Oh, no. She was angry.

"Tell him he's wrong," she snipped. The statement obviously directed at Draco. "He's being cruel to that poor man."

He felt a blue-eyed glare from across the compartment. It prickled his skin.

"Come on, Mione. What'd you expect? He did try to wipe his and _my_ mind. There might be only a bit of stuff rattling around in Weasley's brain, but I've got much to lose without a memory," Draco said, crossing his arms and leaning back. He kept the pressure on the top of his shoulder blades, not the tender flesh of his back. "It was him or us. Luck just happened to be on our side."

She hadn't considered that fact. It was not in her nature to think the worst of anyone, Lockhart included. Her heart hurt for all sorts of poor creatures, which led her to hurt more over their suffering.

Dobby turned her heart toward the treatment of house elves. She'd asked Draco to introduce her to the little elf, and to help her question him about his life in servitude. It pained him to watch her so moved by the cruelty of his own father. Tears fell down her face later that night in a small corner of the library where she thought nobody would find. Draco had. She'd wrapped her arms through his robes, hugging his torso tightly against herself as rapid breaths warmed his shirt.

"It's still awful that he's permanently disabled," she glowered. "Even if he is happy."

"He's well cared for at St. Mungos," Remus quietly added in support of the troubled girl.

Harry smiled. "Right. He's got loads of fans to write to him and send him things. He's got to love that."

An idea struck in Hermione's mind. The wheels of thought turned in her head until she was ready to spit it out.

"We should send him something," she announced. "A card. With all our names on it. And I expect all your names to be on it. Willingly or otherwise."

Her tone implied just how strongly she'd push the idea.

It was presented at the end of the welcoming feast of the year. She had Ron and Harry sign it first over at the Gryffindor table. They were happiest to get away from her after the feast and sprinted to the common room to catch up with their friends.

Hermione sought out the next one she intended to sign. It held a way of apology. Draco wasn't much for apologies, even though it was clear he should say them often. Whenever he tried, his tongue swelled useless and his frustration with himself boiled over into full on rage.

He didn't want to snap at her again since the train had only been earlier in that day.

Her eyes caught his gaze when she left the Great Hall, books already in hand. A gentle lift of her eyebrows, slight shift of her head motioned for him to follow her. Draco nodded slightly.

Blaise whipped around to inspect just whom Draco had signaled, surprised that it was the Gryffindor witch who bewitched his friend.

"For a second I thought Potter and you had a secret language," His friend commented as he delicately wiped grease from his fingers onto the silver napkins at their side. "Surprise, surprise. It's Granger."

There was a bit of sting in his voice.

"Not jealous there, Blaise, are you?" Draco smirked.

"Of course not. I only am just here for you when the term starts and you need an ally."

It reeked of bitterness as Blaise fixated on his potatoes in their slippery puddles of butter. He pushed his fork against the surface, creating little races of the potatoes around the rim of his plate, not caring whether he scraped the flatware.

"What's that supposed to mean?" Draco wrinkled his nose.

He considered himself equally friends with Potter, Weasley and Blaise. Sure, he saw Potter more during the breaks but that wasn't Draco's choice. It was Lucius' fault.

His Italian friend shrugged his shoulders. "Didn't see you once this past break."

"I saw you twice! Once at that stupid party Pansy's parents threw and once at the Manor for that awful party my parents threw," Draco retorted. "You stayed two nights after that."

"Yeah, well it wasn't your choice. Pure circumstance."

"Holy Salazar, Blaise. You've got to be kidding."

He was supposed to head to the library after Hermione, but it wasn't a time to leave his sole friend amongst the Slytherins. Blaise was a great ally, but he was more. They were friends since the beginning, too, just not as close as Sirius and Potter.

That wasn't Blaise's fault. All he had was a very odd mother whom galivanted across the world with numerous beaus, often leaving her only son in the care of whomever was closest.

Lucius and Narcissa allowed Blaise to stay so that Draco was kept occupied and not troublesome. It wasn't attachment to the child. Only for their benefit so that they were left alone.

Draco was already in a sour mood from the train ride and his behavior toward Hermione, now it was a bitter reminder that he was being pulled in two different directions. It pulled him to pieces. One side pulled toward a friend and happiness and fun whereas duty lied with the other. They pulled on him harder.

Blaise wasn't on side of his parents, that much was clear, but he wasn't exactly on the same side as Potter. It was the unspoken rule of Slytherin: do not befriend Gryffindors.

"Well, you're welcome to join me and Granger in the library," Draco offered, though he wasn't one hundred percent invested.

It was the first time alone with Hermione since last term. He'd pined all summer. Many drafts of letters filled his wastebasket as he tried to find some reason to contact the witch, no to seem like he just wanted to talk to her.

Every word felt silly. There were lies. He didn't need help with summer school work, or struggle with one of his new books he found. He just wanted to her.

Blaise scoffed. "Now _you_ 've got to be kidding."

"Nope. I'm heading there now. And if you want, you're welcome to join. If not, then don't complain to me. There is plenty of choice on your part, too."

He rose from the Slytherin table and exited promptly, avoiding the sneers and remarks from the others as he walked by.

There was no time to hex them; it was time to see Hermione.

First, he'd apologize. Just to alleviate the guilt of the interaction. He suspected she wasn't too angry, but it wasn't fair to put that on her. It was his own problem.

A problem she'd press. It wasn't her fault either. Her nature was so curious and helpful that even if she didn't ask, it'd still be on her mind. However, it was a personal matter he didn't want to dump on her. She was hurt worse by his father, losing precious time in a blank void. He'd grit his teeth and withstand that pain all for that.

When she laid in the hospital bed, he said he'd never forgive his father for it. Something he planned to uphold. Nothing could alleviate that guilt from his chest.

Maybe the truth was the best. He could control it then. Promise it was nothing worse than what she went through and assure her that it was intention to protect her from something so horrid from happening again. Yes. That sounded right to him.

The truth. She'd like it.

The time to see Hermione Granger was not to be for poor Draco. Once he stepped out of the Great Hall, turned his feet toward the end of the castle where a bushy-haired witch waited, a sudden black came over him as he felt his body fall free to the stone floor.

Face down, Draco was dragged through dark shadows of corridors unable to resist. He grunted against the spell but there was no give. He was bound until he was released at the will of his captors.

If it was Potter's idea of a joke… Wait, no.

Potter was funny. His pranks were more amusing and less terrifying.

Draco gritted his teeth as he was dragged through a familiar wall into a cool, dim lit room completely devoid of others. His body was finally lifted, plenty of explicits muttered under breaths, until he was eased back onto a three-seater couch.

"Reparifors."

Movement came back to his limbs. His toes moved on their own, arms wretched free from his body.

Draco drew his wand quickly.

The two figures sneered, batting the wand down to his side. One was his team captain for the Quidditch team, Marcus Flint. The other was Pansy Parkinson. Neither were ones he cared much for enough to tolerate. However, he was outnumbered and outlearned. Marcus was years ahead. Ugly he was, stupid he was not.

"What do you want?" Draco bristled as he adjusted the unflattering state of his school robes.

Marcus had a gruff, rasp for a voice. It screeched out his lungs off his tongue with particular venom of a Slytherin.

"Stay away from that scarhead and his Mudblood," he ordered. "You're being watched. Any slip up means you'll get a special in-house punishment."

His wand hand itched at the emergence of the slur. It burned like embarrassment down his neck to the back of his hands up toward his cheeks.

The smirk on Flint's face made Draco seethe in fury.

"Malfoy's don't take orders from the likes of you," he said in a well-rehearsed statement.

It was a common phrase off Lucius' tongue.

Next was the sickly-sweet voice of Pansy. He internally groaned as she settled on the top of feet on the couch. She ignored his grimace as he wretched his feet out from under her.

"These come from a Malfoy, Draco. Your father told us to guide you this year since you've ventured out into some unfamiliar territories," she remarked casually, flipping her bob. "To make it short and sweet, Lucius doesn't like your friend choices and wants you to have better ones."

Draco scoffed. "You both are mental if you think I'm going to listen to what either of you have to say."

"I'll Imperio you if I have to," Flint spat. "Won't have any young ferret looking kid like you lose us House points because you've turned to a lion lover. Stay away from them or so help me."

"You can't watch me all day, every day." Draco smirked. Marcus had his own life to live, one that didn't interact with third years too often.

Pansy giggled in amusement.

She batted her eyelashes upward. "Told you he wouldn't listen."

A nasty sound came out of the man's throat. It would have earned him a smack against the back of the head if Lucius had been around. How he enlisted the help of the disgusting wizard was beyond Draco's understanding.

"Fine then, Malfoy. You leave me no choice," the wizard said with a low grunt. "Meet your new girlfriend. Pansy. Babysit your man. Let me know if he slips up."

Girlfriend? "Oh bloody hell. I don't think so! I don't want to date her."

"Too bad."

To his horror, it was not a damned joke.

Pansy made it her entire life's purpose to spread the news throughout the population of the school, especially in the classes with the Gryffindors. Potter was as equally horrified as Draco was. He tried to reason with Pansy, but there wasn't a single thing to be convinced within the witch's mind. She was head over heels in delusion.

Across the room in a darkly lit dungeon sat Hermione Granger beside Neville Longbottom. Her lip eternally fixed in determination as she scratched at her piece of parchment, nudging her friend ever minute or so to focus him.

It was all she could do. Work. Write. Class. Extra credit.

Anything to avoid the bitter taste of disappointment that surfaced when Draco Malfoy obviously snubbed her invitation to the library after an entire summer break of silence from the wizard she considered a friend. It only turned to ash when she saw him with Pansy the next day on his arm, clearly uncomfortable when Hermione was near.

He must've known her feelings. Her feelings.

Godric, it was mortifying that she believed they'd bonded. Bonded deeper than her friendship with Ron and Harry. It felt different with Draco, but as she analyzed the events, she felt even more disgusted with herself. He'd only sat with her as she was silent in bed. Of course! That was the only time could stand her. When she wasn't talking, annoying him.

He entered the potion classroom and stared at the empty seat that was Hermione's the year before. A flash of hurt crossed his face.

Hermione swallowed back her guilt, not certain whether she'd read him wrong or just simply hurt his feelings. Even if he hadn't felt that way romantically, they were friends. Ignoring him was childish. A way that she rarely ever behaved. It was petty and unnecessary.

Oh, why had she been so keen to avoid him? Her friends could have girlfriends. That wasn't for her to decide.

Neville noticed the shift in his partner as she sank deeper in her seat, away from their assignment. He gently nudged her elbow and quietly asked, "Something wrong there, Hermione?"

"No, I – well, I was just thinking," she mumbled. "Sorry. I've not been feeling well."

"Really? Don't think it's Dragon Pox, do you? I had a nasty case when I was a nipper. Had the whole house covered in puke, I did." A blush came to his pale cheeks. It was so easy to make him feel uncomfortable. Neville was not one would consider as confident in himself or his abilities. "A quick pop off to the Hospital Wing should clear it up. I'd be happy to take you. Erm, I mean, if Harry and Ron don't mind."

She chuckled softly which caught a stern glare of Professor Snape. Her and Neville were not favorites. Quickly they focused back to their assignments as the man stalked amongst the fearful students, intent to find the slightest mistake.

It wasn't until the professor found his way to Ronald Weasley that Hermione knew they had quite a few minutes before the attention was turned to anyone else.

"No need to fret, Neville. I'm just not feeling myself, is all."

"A new year does that to me," he admitted in a soft whisper. "It's hard to remember who I am when I get here."

She felt the same as she did at home. Being an only child prevented her from ever really having to find whom she was from anyone. There was no other way she could be.

The sentiment gave her an idea as to what might be Malfoy's dilemma. His home was vastly different than Hogwarts. He had to feel as though it was an entirely different world, one where he hid and the other where he didn't.

Although every fiber of her being ached with the obvious rejection of Draco Malfoy, she was determined to still treat him with respect. Friendship was more important than schoolyard crushes. She had to school her interactions to appear unfazed by the revelation, as if the new, completely unexpected, relationship was nothing to them.

Easier said than done.

Neville walked with her after Potions class in quiet respect since he was unwilling to leave her alone lest she suddenly need the hospital wing and no one was available to help her, so he followed her toward their next class without much to say. Mostly he kept his gaze low.

He failed to notice the hope on her face as she noticed Malfoy at the end of the hallway, right inside their current route. Her steps moved faster. She'd noticed a casual glance from those gray eyes that eased her fears. Then it was gone. He turned his back and entered the classroom of their shared elective with Pansy by his side, poking his sides with a giddy smile.

That was a crushing blow.

Best as she could, tears remained inside her eyes as she entered, dragging Neville with her. He didn't resist, thankfully. Her voice would betray her if she spoke aloud. And she'd be damned if Malfoy would see her so vulnerable.

Neville and Hermione settled in the front row, bags down at their sides on the floor.

Ancient Runes dragged on way longer than she wanted it to. She practically ran out the classroom once dismissed, sure to avoid the curious looks she felt from a familiar gaze. There was one she had to consider though.

"Neville! Keep up."

He struggled against the straps of his knapsack as he near tripped over his feet multiple times. Finally, he righted himself, after two full minutes of Hermione's horror, as a few Slytherin's filtered through the doorway.

Neville righted himself and joined her side. "Right. Well it's lunch time. See you in Care of Magical Creatures?"

Alone. No, she couldn't be alone.

 _Malfoy_ wasn't alone.

"What? No. Sit with me. We can try to make our textbooks like us." She forced a smile.


End file.
